#sk-writersnet

[vallkyr]

Step Out

When the people you trust most leave you to get caught by the task force hunting you, what else is there to do but finding new allies?

Different account now but the gif has still been made by the lovely @agustdawn

Pairings: Chan x Kwangsun (OC), Chan x Felix, Minho x Jisung, Changbin x Hyunjin, Younghyun x Liam (OC), Siyeon x Jonghyeon, Aaron x Minhyun and other minor pairings

Genres: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, some Romance and bits of Fluff in between

Tags: Dystopia AU, Rebels AU

Chapter Tags: -

Rating: Mature

General Warnings: Violence, Injury, Panic Attacks, Minor Character Death

Chapter Warnings: mention of injury, scars

Word Count: 12,904

Masterpost

< Previous Chapter |

Hey everyone! Step Out is back after two years! To be honest, I had a hard time writing Step Out since the allegations against Woojin started coming up and it didn’t change after the allegations turned out to be fake. I just couldn’t keep the story the way it was so I decided to replace Woojin by an OC. And since I was already changing things I went ahead and made some more changes (like also replacing Jae by an OC), edited everything I had uploaded and so on. I feel way more comfortable writing Step Out now so I hope that the next update won’t take quite as long. Until then, please enjoy the 9th chapter 💕

Chapter 9 - The burden of secrets

Numbers. So many goddamn numbers. A whole damn block of them. As though the mission wasn’t enough already. It’s all so damn overwhelming. Missions require all the concentration and energy Minho can muster and they always leave his brain exhausted, drained and lazy. And now he has to decipher the fucking message in this condition. He’s been fiddling around on his phone and sharpening pencils for ages now. Minho sighs as he peeks over to the sheet of paper on his desk, trying to get himself to get to work.

11111 111111

101 10 010 1110 110 000000 0011 1110 000000 0100 0 000000 0100 0010 00 000000 1110 0011 100 1000 111111

1 0100 0 0 1000 1 101 0011 0100 0 000000 101 0100 000000 101 1101 1000 000000 101 1000 010 001 111111

01 1000 000000 01 0011 0101 0101 000000 1001 1000 101 000000 101 00 010 0011 0 0011 0 1001 000000 101 0100 000000 1001 0100 000000 0100 0 000000 001 0011 1110 1110 0011 0100 0 1110 000000 1110 0100 0100 0 111111

011 1000 0100 011 0101 1000 000000 1110 101 0011 0101 0101 000000 100 0011 1110 0101 0011 0001 1000 000000 0010 1110 111111

1101 0010 1001 000000 0101 0010 111 000000 110 00 0100 001 000000 001 1000 111111

His head hurts just thinking about deciphering all of that. The first message was already a pain in the ass and the prospect of more and more and more messages like this is daunting. Why did he agree to that anyways? Talking is so much easier. Why does this shit have to be so complicated? Minho should probably make a table. So far, he hasn’t had the time for that, and he had hoped to avoid it for safety reasons. But the more he thinks about it, the more he feels like it can’t be avoided. He really underestimated how much work these messages would be. Minho sighs once again while he gets the writing pad from the drawer and places it on the table next to the message. He takes a pencil and a ruler and starts drawing his grid before gradually filling it. Letter by letter, code by code.

After an hour or so the whole thing is finally complete – at least Minho guesses it was an hour. Time runs as fast as a snail when you try to figure out what the letter Q looks like in your secret code. Minho hates that the code has to be this complicated, but it’s safety first and convenience second in this situation. They mustn’t risk the DIT spying into their communication. If anyone was to find the messages, they would surely give them over to that hell hole of an organisation. Just like the government expects of a ‘good citizen’.

Needing a bit of a change for his tortured brain, Minho decides to put everything aside for now and go downstairs into the kitchen. As expected, Spear B, Felix and Jisung have already started preparing dinner. The sweetest smile spreads over Jisung’s face when he spots Minho in the doorway and gestures for him to come over.

“How is it going?” How is it possible for someone to be this beautiful while peeling a carrot? If B and Lux weren’t here, Minho would love to hug Jisung right now. It would be so lovely to be in Jisung’s embrace, feel his warmth and just forget about his code-wrecked brain. But they aren’t alone. The others’ presence feels like a dark shadow looming over Minho.

“It’s exhausting,” Minho admits. “I wish there was an easier way, but meeting Virus regularly would be too dangerous even if he takes turns with Mercury.”

Jisung hums in understanding. “Then you’re here to take a break? I’m sure we’ll find something for you.”

“Yes please. I really need to get my mind off things a little.”

Without hesitation, Felix grabs his cutting board and sets it down in front of Minho. “Have fun.” His voice sounds overly sweet and the wateriness of Felix’s eyes gives Minho a pretty solid idea of what his task is going to be. Minho’s fear is confirmed when he looks down and is met with stinging in his own eyes. Onions. That explains why Felix was so quick to leave and find himself something else to do. Cutting onions definitely isn’t Minho’s favourite task, but at this point every distraction from that damn code is welcome. Even onions.

“Should have known I’d end up with that.” Despite the tears already forming in his eyes, Minho picks up the knife and gets to work. With the four of them all going about their tasks, they’re soon done preparing everything and can get to cooking, which Felix takes upon himself despite Minho’s protests. From then on Minho, Jisung and B are basically… useless. Everything they can do is keep Felix company and occasionally hand him ingredients. Jisung and Spear B soon start chatting with Felix occasionally chipping in when he isn’t too busy. Minho doesn’t have much to contribute except for a few sentences here and there. His mind is running a mile a minute and is completely empty at the same time. There’s so much to do, so much to think about, but Minho can’t seem to focus on anything. So many 0s and 1s are still circling through his brain.

“Dinner should be done soon,” Felix says before turning towards them. “Can one of you set the table?”

“On my way,” Minho says without hesitation. He is already getting plates from the cupboard when Jisung, who has been sitting on the kitchen counter since he finished peeling carrots, scoots over to him.

“Can I give you a hand?” When he sees Jisung like this, Minho almost forgets they had a mission today. Jisung looks calm and cosy in his oversized sweater that Minho is pretty sure is actually his own. He has been stealing more and more clothes from Minho lately, which should be annoying. But Minho finds it weirdly endearing. He could probably get his clothes back if he really wanted to, though he really prefers seeing them on Jisung over having them wait for him in the closet.

“Sure.”

Jisung slides down from the counter, helps Minho gather everything they need and carry it over to the dining room. Minho is about to go back to the kitchen and get glasses for them when Jisung stops him with a hand on his wrist. The little touch has Minho’s body shift down from forcing himself to function into just existing. He can finally let himself feel his tiredness and exhaustion without pushing it away. When Jisung tugs at his arm, Minho lets his heavy body be pulled away from the archway leading to the kitchen, into the privacy of the little dining room. “Are you okay?” Jisung’s pretty eyes are full of worry as he takes a closer look at Minho. “You seem so quiet.”

“Yeah it’s okay. I’m just exhausted and that message is eating my last brain cells.”

Jisung hums like he’s trying to come up with a way to make it better. Minho simply steps closer and lets his head drop onto Jisung’s shoulder. After a moment Jisung slings his arms around Minho and holds him close. Having Jisung hug him lets Minho forget about the code, about the table, about Felix and B in the kitchen, about everything. It feels like Jisung knocked over the glass of his mind and let all the stuff keeping him busy pour out before setting it down again. After a while Jisung starts humming a low tune and lightly swaying them back and forth. Minho can’t help but giggle as he closes his eyes and allows himself to sink deeper into Jisung’s embrace.

“You guys are taking ages. Do you need help with setting the table?” Hearing Spear B’s voice makes Minho tense up. He gives Jisung a quick slap on the butt that has Jisung smile to himself before stepping away from him. When Minho heads back into the kitchen, Jisung follows close behind him and helps him finish setting the table just in time for lunch to be ready.

Minho feels a lot more at ease when they’re eating. The weight of the day feels a little lighter now that he gets to have a break for once. Since Felix did most of the actual cooking, B and Jisung volunteer to do the dishes after dinner. Though hesitant, Minho goes back to decoding after clearing the table for them. He still isn’t enthusiastic about having to work again, but Minho’s brain definitely feels fresher after a bit of distraction and a tad of Jisung. Hopefully working with the code will be easier now that he has a table. He’ll just have to be a bit more careful now so nobody else gets their hands on it.

[-]

“Don’t stop.” Younghyun cracks an eye open to look up at Liam. Thankfully his request works and makes his boyfriend go right back to patting Younghyun’s hair.

“I should have gotten a dog instead.” Despite his words, Liam doesn’t stop or makes a move to get Younghyun’s head off his lap. “A dog would just fall asleep after five minutes and I could watch TV in peace.”

“A dog can’t cook dinner for you.” Noticing Liam directing a critical look at the empty pizza boxes, Younghyun quickly adds. “Not even on a good day.” As much as he loves cooking with Liam, after hearing that Jungkook is injured and having to deliver the news to Bambam Younghyun had been happy to just drop onto the couch and eat. He still feels exhausted, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Younghyun’s home.

“You underestimate my ability to teach a dog tricks.”

“My bad, I forgot your secret career as a dog trainer.” Younghyun fully opens his eyes and grins up at his boyfriend, who shakes his head and focuses on the TV again. “Speaking of dinner, Chan accepted the invitation. Is tomorrow alright?”

“Sure, I can go grocery shopping after work if we still need anything.” It takes a while before the question Younghyun was already expecting follows. “Any idea what we’ll cook?”

The same old problem. It’s been years and yet the struggle of ‘What can we cook?’ never gets any easier. “No, you?”

“Nope.”

“Fuck.” He and Liam start giggling. Younghyun really should have expected this when he invited Chan over. Deciding what they want to have for dinner is already hard enough when it’s just the two of them, but guests always make it even more difficult because they can’t bullshit their way through it and hope the result is edible. “I could ask Chan if he has any preferences.”

Liam gasps in fake surprise. “You’re a genius.”

“Bet a dog wouldn’t have been able to come up with that.” Younghyun chuckles.

“That’s it. Get off my lap.” It’s obvious Liam isn’t serious, but Younghyun sits up nonetheless and shifts to sit next to Liam. As soon as that’s done, he leans closer to kiss Liam’s cheek. Liam seems almost surprised. A little smile fills his face before morphing into a slightly suspicious frown. “What did you do?”

Younghyun rolls his eyes. Obviously, he cannot possible show affection if he didn’t screw up and accidentally wash a red sock with the white laundry. “Nothing. Just trying to thank you for your helping with delivering the news to my unit. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Liam’s gaze softens. “It was still you doing all the work,” he insists. “I just did my part to calm you down for that.”

Younghyun only hums in agreement. They don’t need any more words. Just locking eyes is enough for Younghyun to know Liam understands how important his support was even if he’s playing it down.

It’s Liam who eventually breaks the warm silence between them. “We should go to sleep. If we can’t manage to have a healthy sleeping schedule, you should at least get some rest after missions.”

Sadly he does have a point with that. Younghyun feels utterly exhausted after the mission and the situation surrounding Jungkook. It takes a bit of effort to get up from the couch, but they eventually make their way to the bathroom to get ready for bed. While they brush their teeth Younghyun watches Liam, who is already stripped down to his briefs and one of Younghyun’s shirts, run his hand through his hair, probably deciding that the dye needs to be freshened up in the near future. To anyone else the situation would look so mundane. But seeing Liam in all his half-dressed glory with toothpaste on his lips has Younghyun feel warm and fuzzy inside. The earlier ‘I’ll see you at home.’ is still present in his mind, because nothing describes what Liam is to him like the word home. Being with Liam makes Younghyun feel safe and at peace. No matter what happens, what might shake up their lives, they handle it side by side. Just like they have been doing for the past seven years already.

Younghyun is snapped out of his thoughts when Liam slaps him on the ass. “Did you fall asleep with your eyes wide open? You know you’re supposed to lie down and close your eyes first, right?”

“So that’s what I’ve been doing wrong,” Younghyun mutters while following Liam into their bed. He straddles Liam’s waist and bends down to kiss him while carding his hand through Liam’s chestnut coloured hair. When he pulls back, Liam has the softest smile on his face. They stay like this for a while, looking at each other, Younghyun twirling a strand of Liam’s hair around his finger. If it was an option for them, Younghyun would have asked Liam to marry him then and there. It’s not like either of them needs a ring or certificate whatever – the thought is kind of ridiculous to be honest – but the thought of making it official that they want to spend the rest of their lives together is kind of nice regardless. Though as things stand, they wouldn’t be able to get married no matter if they wanted to or not. At least not here.

“You know that I love you, right?”

“I do.” Liam chuckles. “Love you too, you sap.” Younghyun kisses Liam again and wishes him a good night before sliding out of Liam’s lap and into bed next to him. He falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow knowing that he’s home.

[-]

Jisung stops in the door frame to their room when he sees Minho still bent over the desk. Minho looks fully concentrated and totally exhausted at the same time, which is a shame considering how relaxed he had seemed after dinner. Did the little break change anything at all? How Jisung wishes he could do more for Minho. He already puts his all into supporting Minho, cheering him up and making sure he relaxes after a hard day. But it never feels like enough, especially not when Minho looks this worn out. “What are you up to?”

Minho jumps up like a scared deer and immediately scrambles to cover his notes with his arms and upper body. It’s a strange sight, like he’d defend those notes with his life. “Sungie. I thought you and Spear B were doing the dishes.”

Jisung carefully steps into the room and closes the door after himself. “We’re done?” This is odd. Jisung understands if he scared Minho because Minho was focused and didn’t hear him come in. But this? It’s almost as if he’s trying to hide something from Jisung. What can be so drastic about those papers that Jisung isn’t allowed to catch as much as a glimpse of them? “Is something the matter? You seem weird…”

“No, it’s nothing. It’s just that I made myself a table for deciphering the code.” Minho leans back in his chair, giving up his defence over the stack of paper. Though he turns them around nonetheless. He still refuses to let Jisung see a thing of what he’s written down. “I mean you know the drill. If you end up getting questioned about this-”

“The less I know the better.” Jisung scoffs as he walks over to the bed and lets himself fall down onto it. This is so frustrating. Even though he’s kind of relieved Minho isn’t keeping any actual secrets from him, it sucks that Jisung isn’t allowed to learn the code. He wishes he could help Minho with deciphering or writing messages or do anything else useful aside from assisting Minho in planning.

“Jisung…” Worry sounds through Minho’s voice as he gets up, follows Jisung to the bed and crouches down on the floor in front of him. Just hearing Minho say his name pushes the negative feelings back a bit. No matter how chaotic and awful things around them might get, at the very least they’ll always have each other. Things between them have been going so well. They used to spend basically every free minute together anyways, but they’ve become even closer since they’ve been living here together.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just read a bit while you work on the messages.”

“You sure?” Minho’s gaze is so gentle that just looking into his eyes releases a swarm of butterflies in Jisung’s stomach. Jisung wonders if he’ll ever fully get used to the way he melts into a puddle around Minho.

“Yeah. Now hurry up and get everything done. The sooner you’re back the sooner can I start cuddling you.”

“True.” Minho is smiling when he rises from the floor again. He stops midway to place a little kiss on Jisung’s lips. “Can’t wait.” Jisung can’t wait either. The thought of burying his face in Minho’s chest and breathing in Minho’s scent while they snuggle as close as they can already feels so wonderful. It will be like heaven to fall asleep in Minho’s arms after the mission. Damnit, Minho really needs to hurry and finish those messages.

“I’m rooting for you!” Jisung calls. The chuckle sends a little tremble through Minho’s shoulders, which is the most endearing thing ever. Jisung takes a moment to look at Minho’s back, basks in the warm feeling that spreads through his chest from being around his boyfriend. It never ceases to amaze Jisung how strong Minho is. Everyone feels exhausted after their missions yet here Minho is, still fulfilling his duties even though he probably wants to just fall into bed and sleep more than anyone. It’s so much work to plan their missions and it must be even more tiring to keep track of everyone and everything during the mission itself. How Minho can stay on top of it all is beyond Jisung’s comprehension.

Deciding to stay true to his words, Jisung gets up from the bed, walks over to the book shelve by the windows and starts looking through everything. Since this is – or rather used to be – the bedroom of Changbin’s parents, most of the books are… not really to Jisung’s liking. There’s stuff about business tactics, handling human resources, and ways to relax at work as well as literary classics that bore Jisung just from looking at them. The depressing choice of books makes Jisung glad he decided keep some books he stole from Changbin’s sister on the nearby side board. Jisung picks one that looks interesting, lies down on the bed again and starts reading.

The book isn’t quite as good as Jisung had hoped –well, it’s only the beginning anyways – but it keeps him busy. After a while, there’s shuffling at the desk, which immediately makes Jisung peeks over the pages of his books. Minho rips a piece from a blank sheet of paper and starts noting down his reply. Even from across the room, Jisung can tell Minho is hurrying. As soon as it’s done, he jumps up, turns around and proudly presents the note to Jisung.

00011 111111

0100 1011 1110 0101 111111

0100 1011 0000 000000 0100 1001 001 100 11 000000 1011 01 000000 0101 1011 010 110 1 000000 0101 1011 1110 0101 111111

1 010 0001 0001 01 0001 000000 111 10 1001 1000 000000 100 001 011 111111

Jisung doesn’t know what it says, the only meaning that matters to him is that Minho comes towards him with big steps. Jisung barely has time to put the book in his hands aside before Minho is already tackling him in a hug. They nestle together, Minho lying on top of Jisung like a blanket. Jisung wraps his arms around Minho and starts rubbing his back in slow, soothing motions. “Are you going to bring that note to your mailbox today?”

“No, it can wait until tomorrow morning. I just have to make it before Virus’ shift,” Minho mumbles into the crook of Jisung’s neck. “I just want to sleep now.”

“You can’t sleep fully clothed though.” Jisung emphasises his point by pulling at the elastic of Minho’s sweatpants before letting it snap against his skin.

“Sure I can.” Minho already sounds half asleep. “Just watch me.”

Seeing no other way to motivate his boyfriend, Jisung pushes Minho off of him, earning himself a frustrated whine. Giggling, Jisung rolls Minho onto his back, gets onto his knees and pulls Minho up by the arms. “Come on.” Minho still pretends to be annoyed by Jisung’s attempts to get him out of bed, making himself deadweight in Jisung’s arms. But the smile on his lips says otherwise.

“You could just undress me here.”

“Tempting,” Jisung admits. “But I can’t brush your teeth here.” Minho groans in annoyance when Jisung finally succeeds in hoisting Minho off the bed and into a standing position. Thinking that this will be enough, Jisung turns to walk away, but is stopped by arms circling his waist. With Minho basically glued to his back, Jisung drags both of them to the bathroom.

[-]

Jungkook’s mind feels fuzzy when he wakes up to a dark room. He can’t even remember going to bed last night. Except this isn’t his bed. Or his bedroom. Where is he? Where else would he be? Is he staying over at someone else’s place? Once Jungkook’s eyes are used to the darkness he takes a look around himself. This is a hospital room. And he’s the patient. He vaguely remembers waking up in the recovery room and that he was transferred, but he must have passed out again right after. What happened?

And what’s that sound? Water? Why would water be running in the middle of the night? Jungkook tries to sit up, but the pain in his leg stops him. He remains propped up on his elbows to take another look around the room. He got a single bed room, so there’s no roommate who could be showering at absurd hours. It could be from next door though? That’s probably it, right? What else would it be? Jungkook lets himself fall back onto the bed and closes his eyes. He’s so damn tired. No matter he much he must have slept already if it became night in the meantime, he doesn’t feel the least bit refreshed.

Suddenly the water stops followed by the sound of the shower door opening and the rustling of a towel. It’s too loud to be from a different room. But who would be here? The walls are probably just thinner than Jungkook would have thought. He should be sleeping instead of worrying his head over weird noises. Jungkook is about to doze off when the bathroom door creaks, making Jungkook snap his eyes open and – for lack of a better memory – try to sit up again. Fucking shit.

“Hey, careful.” Jimin rushes closer to his bed. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes…” Jimin? Why is Jimin here? He was on the ambulance with Jungkook, right? Yes, if nothing else Jungkook definitely remembers Jimin holding his hand in the ambulance. But what is he doing in Jungkook’s room? Jungkook looks up at Jimin, only now noticing the towel hanging over Jimin’s shoulders. His gaze wanders farther up to Jimin’s hair that is dripping water onto his shirt. Jimin showered in his hospital room? “What are you doing here?”

“You don’t remember?” Jimin chuckles while pulling a chair over to the bed and sitting down beside Jungkook. “We talked after you woke up. I asked you if I could shower here and you said it was fine.”

“Uhm.” Jungkook’s mind is completely blank. He can’t remember waking up before or talking to Jimin, but he can’t imagine that Jimin would lie about something like that. Why would he, anyways? “I don’t know. I guess I fell asleep right after.”

“Looks like it. Sorry if I startled you.” A warm smile takes over Jimin’s face. How come he looks so gorgeous without even doing anything? There’s something so gentle and cosy about seeing Jimin freshly out of the shower wearing a plain, white shirt. Immediately, Jungkook’s thoughts start wandering again. He remembers the way Jimin held his hand in the ambulance, how much strength Jimin’s presence was giving him. If he focuses, he can still feel Jimin’s warmth. As much as Jungkook would love to stay right here, look at Jimin and wallow in memories, he really needs to get to the bathroom. Now. But he doesn’t even manage to get out of bed before pain jolts through his leg once again.

“Wait.” Jimin jumps up, fetches a pair of crutches from the end of the bed and hands them to Jungkook. “Do you need any help?” Even now that Jungkook’s injury has been taken care of, Jimin is still worrying about Jungkook.  Jungkook would find it sweet if he wasn’t so busy feeling guilty about it.

“I don’t know.” Jungkook is still wobbly when he gets up, but he somehow manages to get himself standing on his intact leg. Despite this, Jimin doesn’t seem totally convinced that he’s fine. He follows every single one of Jungkook’s slow steps as though he fears Jungkook might collapse any second. Jimin even pushes the bathroom door open for Jungkook, which is when Jungkook stops for a moment. “I think I can do the rest by myself.”

“You sure?” Jimin’s voice is smug as he tilts his head to the side and looks at Jungkook in a way that has Jungkook weak in his knees. And that’s even though he can barely see Jimin in the darkness of the hospital room. This is really the wrong moment to be whipped, Jungkook needs every bit of his strength his legs have in stock.

“Yes.” Jungkook definitely is sure. He’s never been surer in his life. A mere second later, Jimin breaks into giggles and goes to sit down in his chair again. Jungkook almost sighs in relief. He doubts his pride would survive Jimin helping him on the toilet. When Jungkook returns Jimin is still sitting in the chair, which almost surprises Jungkook. Part of him thought he might be having hallucinations from the anaesthesia. It’s only now that Jungkook realises Jimin is still in his uniform pants. The jacket that goes with it hangs from the back of the chair Jimin is sitting on.

“Is something wrong?” Jimin asks after Jungkook has apparently looked at him for a bit too long. His voice goes back to sounding worried so quickly it really bothers Jungkook. He doesn’t want to worry Jimin, especially not with something as simple as spacing out for a moment.

“You’ve been here the entire time?”

Jimin briefly looks down on himself before nodding. “Yeah. I didn’t want you to be alone.” He runs his hand through his still damp hair. “Besides I still need to interrogate you and report to the Corporal. That can wait until tomorrow though. You need to rest now.”

“So do you.” Jungkook finally makes his way back to the bed. In an instant, Jimin is back by his side, helps him lift his injured leg onto the mattress and get comfortable again. Jimin pulls his chair even closer, right next to the bed, and takes Jungkook’s hand into his just like he had done in the ambulance. Immediately, Jungkook’s cheeks starts heating up. Hopefully Jimin can’t see him blush in the dark. Gosh, why does Jungkook have to be so nervous because of something so simple? Jimin always makes him feel like some stupid teenager having his very first crush.

“I’m really glad you’re fine, Jungkook-ah.”

“Thank you.” What else could he say to that? Jungkook has no idea how he even manages to keep his voice in check, but he’s grateful for himself. At least that part of talking still works. Jimin holding his hand is still so foreign and it makes Jungkook’s heart race like crazy. How come this is actually happening for the second time in one day? “What did the doctors tell you?” Great. Change the topic when he’s getting emotional. Perfect. Exactly what Jungkook really wants.

“Not much,” Jimin admits. “Just that surgery went well and that you should be back on track in a few weeks. I’m sure they’ll tell you everything in more detail tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook still has no idea what to say. Usually conversations with Jimin are so easy, but now there’s this strange tension. It’s not a bad one per se, but one that’s way more emotional than anything they’ve shared before. This is probably just because of the shock, Jungkook tells himself, Jimin must have been worried about losing a member of his unit. Jungkook tries his best to ignore the part of him that just wants to pull Jimin close and kiss him when Jimin absentmindedly rubs his thumb over the back of Jungkook’s hand. The little, maybe meaningless, gesture feels so damn intimate. Jungkook really needs to get a hold of himself, just because Jimin is holding his hand doesn’t mean he wants anything beyond that. But obviously, Jimin isn’t going to let getting a grip be easy.

“We should go to sleep now.” Seeing Jimin’s gentle smile in the dark, alongside his low voice and the words he’s saying make Jungkook’s mind run crazy. Even though he highly doubts Jimin is going to lie down next to him, Jungkook immediately wonders what it would be like. He’d give everything to experience going to bed with Jimin, seeing him in one of Jungkook’s shirts, hugging him from behind and making him smile by whispering ‘Good night.’ into his ear. Fuck, Jungkook should not be having these kinds of thoughts about his Lance Corporal.

“You’re right. Good night, Jimin-ah.” Jungkook kind of expected Jimin to complain about the lack of honorifics the way he usually does. But today he just shakes his head and smiles. What’s with him today? Jungkook isn’t sure whether he should be relieved or sad when Jimin eventually lets go of his hand. Though Jungkook is sure he doesn’t like it when Jimin retreats to his chair, despite expecting it. Even with the way Jimin leans back, it doesn’t seem comfortable in the least. He can’t really lie down, he doesn’t have any kind of blanket and without any kind of armrests, chances are Jimin might just tip over to the side. Jungkook feels kind of bad for making Jimin sleep like that. It doesn’t matter that none of this was Jungkook’s idea, Jimin decided it all on his own. “The bed is big enough, you know? You could lie down with me.” Oh dear lord, did Jungkook really just suggest they share a hospital bed?

The beat of silence that passes afterwards makes Jungkook’s nervousness so much worse. Was that offer too much? Did he make things weird? He went too far, didn’t it? Maybe Jungkook should have just kept quiet. But then again, there’s no harm asking right? It’s the least he can do when Jimin takes care of him like that. “That’s nice,” Jimin eventually replies. “But I think it would be safer if I stayed in the chair. I don’t want to hurt you while we sleep.”

“Ah right…” The answer makes Jungkook feel a little stupid. Of course Jimin wouldn’t lie down in bed with him. He shouldn’t have suggested that.

“It still hasn’t set in that you’re injured, huh?” When Jimin smiles all the negative thoughts come to a halt. Jungkook just really likes Jimin’s eye smile, when his eyes nearly disappear and his full lips curl up.

“Not really,” Jungkook admits. “Everything happened so fast.” One moment Jungkook was still going after I.N, the next Bora is dragging him out of the building. Something that happened in a matter of second will take him weeks to recover. It seems so ridiculous.

“I’m sure you’ll come to terms with everything once you have a bit of time to yourself.”

“Yeah maybe.” Even when Jimin wishes him a good night once again, leans back in his chair and closes his eyes, Jungkook has trouble looking away from him. Despite all the complicated feelings that come with it, Jungkook is really glad Jimin is here. He wouldn’t have wanted to be alone after this mess. Wasn’t that exactly want Jimin was going for? That Jungkook wouldn’t feel like he’s all by himself after everything that has happened? “Thank you for being here, it means a lot,” Jungkook mutters, a smile tugs at Jimin’s lips but he doesn’t say anything. Jungkook doesn’t know for how long he continues looking at Jimin until he finally falls asleep.

[-]

“Good morning you two. I’m Lance Corporal Kang Dongho of battle team unit C.” Despite the cheerful smile and friendly tone, Chan feels kind of intimidated by the man standing in front of them. Lance Corporal Kang is only a little taller than Chan, but with a noticeably broader built. And he’s definitely way more muscular than both Chan and Kwangsun. Aside from his physical appearances, just the words “battle team” leave an uneasy feeling in Chan’s gut. He still hasn’t forgotten the looks they got on their first day. Though at the very least, he can’t remember Lance Corporal Kang being among the people who death glared at them. So Chan has hope that the Lance Corporal wasn’t completely forced to work with them and may have even volunteered to work with them. One is allowed to dream after all. “The Corporals and Sergeant Park decided that it would be good for you to come along when our division marches out. It’s my task to make sure you are prepared for that.”

“We will go on missions with you guys?” Sitting in the office and being asked questions is one thing, but going out and actively fighting Stray Kids is different. Would they have to carry guns like the real DIT members? Would they have to shoot if they came across one of the members? The thought makes Chan’s blood freeze. He can’t do that. He can’t point a gun at them. He can’t go that far.

But he has to. Chan was resolved to do everything it takes, he mustn’t back down now.

“Exactly. Sergeant Park thinks it will be good to have you there since you know the way Stray Kids operate better than anyone else.”

“Okay…”

Kwangsun seems to notice his discomfort if the way he steps closer is anything to go by. Chan turns around to look at him, feeling a bit reassured by the hint of a smile on Kwangsun’s face. No matter what happens, he’s not alone. They’re going to do all of this together.

“What exactly is the plan?” Kwangsun asks after turning back to Lance Corporal Kang. Chan is pretty glad he’s taking over talking; he really doesn’t feel like doing it right now.

“Well first of all we’ll have to figure out your current skill level and which areas still need work in. Then we’ll have to make sure you meet the requirements of the DIT. After all we don’t want to put you at risk when marching out with us.”

“When are we going to start?”

“Right now.” Lance Corporal Kang beams at them. “There are some workout clothes for you on the table over there. We’ll practice every day after lunch break until 4pm. The people of my unit will be in the common room or with unit A so we have this room to ourselves for practice.”

Oh. Chan had hoped for a little more time to stomach the news. The thought of going after the rest of Stay Kids is still so foreign he doesn’t feel ready to start training for it. Contrary to him, Kwangsun doesn’t seem to have much of a problem with the situation. Without any bit of hesitation, he walks over to the table and grabs himself a set from one pile of the aforementioned clothes. They’re supposed to change here? In the practice room? In front of Lance Corporal Kang?

Chan takes a deep breath to steady himself. He may be a bit out of practice by now, but it can’t be that hard. Nobody is paying attention to him anyways, right? Then why is there still this fear bubbling up inside of him? He glances over at Kwangsun and the Lance Corporal, finding them still chatting. Good. At least there’s that. If he hurries they won’t see. Chan grabs the shirt from his pile of clothes, backs himself against the wall, quickly slips out of the shirt and into the new one. As soon as the fabric slides over his skin he starts to feel more at ease again. When he looks up, Kwangsun and Lance Corporal Kang are still talking about some workout. Neither of them seems to have noticed anything. Feeling a bit more relaxed now that the worst part is done, Chan takes the pair of grey sweatpants from the table and changes the rest of the way. He’ll really have to find a different way to do this if they’re going to continue training with Lance Corporal Kang.

[-]

“Good morning!” Jungkook frowns when a cheerful voice rips him out of his sleep. Why is hospital staff at war with sleep? Wouldn’t sleeping in be beneficial for his recovery or something? When Jungkook tries to sit up a bit, his gaze immediately lands on Jimin who’s still sleeping slumped on the chair. He actually stayed here all night? The nurse currently chattering about the beautiful weather today doesn’t seem to have noticed Jimin’s presence yet. Jungkook waits for her to look at him before lifting his finger to his lips and nodding over to the chair. The nurse freezes in her movements and breathes a silent “Oh.” as soon as she spots Jimin. Luckily, Jimin seems to still be sound asleep despite her loud voice. He must be a heavy sleeper. “Should I come back later?” the nurse mouths.

Jungkook nods, smiling when she gives him a thumbs up and leaves his room again. Still feeling incredibly tired, Jungkook lies down and tries to get comfortable again. But of course, he can’t seem to close his eyes when Jimin is right next to him. In his sleep, Jimin slid down on the chair a bit. His legs are spread far apart, his arms are crossed in front of his chest and his head is hanging low. The sunlight streaming in through the stark white curtains is playing with Jimin’s jet black hair. Jungkook is glad Jimin didn’t wake up when the nurse came in, not just because it gives him the opportunity to stare a little bit. (Yes, Jungkook is aware that’s kind of creepy.) Mainly, Jungkook is glad Jimin gets to sleep a bit more. Jimin really stayed here over night just so Jungkook wouldn’t be alone. He must have been so exhausted after the mission. Despite all the difficulties, Jimin chose being there for Jungkook over his well-deserved rest. Knowing that Jimin would do anything for their unit is one thing, experiencing it a totally different one. And having Jimin do it for him specifically has Jungkook’s heart race a little.

No matter how nice it may be to have Jimin care for him like that, Jungkook is worried about him. It’s probably ridiculous. Jimin knows his limits; he doesn’t need anyone to fuss over him. Even before Jimin became their Lance Corporal, Jungkook has always been impressed by his strength, both physical and mental. Jimin may have a handsome face and a rather slim build, especially compared to a lot of guys on the battle team, but that doesn’t mean he can’t kick ass. On top of that, Jimin knows how to lead a team. He has no trouble joking around with everyone but is well aware of when enough is enough and how to keep them on track when needed. It’s not surprising he was picked to become Lance Corporal after Jongdae left. Jimin is amazing as a person and as a leader. He gives so much when he doesn’t have to. And here Jungkook goes again, getting carried away when he allows his thoughts about Jimin to flow.

It’s crazy how tired operations – and thinking about your crush - can make you. Before Jungkook knows it, he’s dozing off again. Whether it’s for ten minutes or two hours, Jungkook doesn’t know, only that he wakes up when Jimin stirs awake on his chair. “Good morning,” Jungkook mumbles while pushing himself up into a sitting position.

Jimin rubs the sleep out of his eyes while sitting up. “Mornin’.” He rolls his shoulders before pushing his arms up to stretch, whining softly while he does so. Oh dear lord, Jimin looks so soft. So huggable. And just like that Jungkook is back to the fantasy of last night: sharing a bed with Jimin, seeing him in one of Jungkook’s shirts with dishevelled hair and a slow tired smile on his face. For fuck’s sake Jungkook has been having these kind of thoughts under control while they’re at work, why are his feelings acting up now? Is it because of everything that happened yesterday? Or is it just because they’re alone? When they do meet outside of work it’s usually with the other members of the unit. Jungkook is totally not used to getting to put his full attention on Jimin without worrying about anyone else getting suspicious.

“How are you feeling today?” Jimin mumbles. His voice is still a little rough, but Jimin seems to slowly be coming alive.

“Alright, I guess. But I haven’t tried to move yet so who knows?”

“Good, keep it up.” Jimin wags his finger at Jungkook and chuckles before getting up from his spot and starting to stretch his limbs. It takes all of Jungkook’s self-restraint, but Jungkook manages not to stare at the stretch of skin that is exposed when Jimin’s shirt rides up from the little exercises. “I still have to interview you on the whole incident.” Jimin doesn’t sound happy about having to conduct this interview in the least, but Jungkook guesses there’s no way around it. Since Jimin can’t seem to find anything to write on, he starts a recording on his phone and begins with the interview.

Even after having had more time to process everything, there isn’t much Jungkook can tell Jimin about yesterday’s events. The incident with I.N just happened too fast. Jimin asks him question after question, coaxing more details out of Jungkook than he thought would be possible. But in the end, it still doesn’t feel like much. After they reach the limits of Jungkook’s memory, Jimin thanks him and starts packing up his stuff. “I should probably get going. What time is it?” Truth be told, Jungkook is feeling a little disappointed that their time is over already. Well, it’s probably obvious that he doesn’t want Jimin to leave. It would be too good to be true if Jimin was able to stay with him.

“I have no idea,” Jungkook admits. He hasn’t even considered checking the clock until now. As he found out today, when he’s alone with Jimin time doesn’t matter. But sadly, it matters to Jimin. He checks his phone, groaning as soon as the screen lights up.

“Fuck, I should be at work already.” Jimin quickly puts on his jacket. “Sorry, I wish I could stay longer. Are you going to be okay?” No. Definitely not. Jimin needs to stay here and personally nurse Jungkook back to health.

“Yeah, don’t worry about me.”

Jimin smiles. He finally smiles again. Words can’t express how much Jungkook loves Jimin’s smile. “Great. I’ll make sure to drop by again after work. Behave until then.” Already about to leave, Jimin stops in the doorframe and turns around again. “Oh and Jungkook-ah?”

“Yes?”

“The way I know you you’re going to try and hurry to get back with us. Please don’t do that. I know it’s hard to sit around and wait, but you need time to recover. Promise me you’ll take things slow for now.”

Jungkook swallows around the lump in his throat. There it is again, Jimin’s worry. But combined with the little smile on his face, it doesn’t feel quite as heavy, makes Jungkook’s heart flutter rather than weighing him down. “I promise.”

[-]

“Happy Birthday!!!”

The cheers are followed by the sound of a party horn right before Yeji is yanked forward. Hyunjin laughs as Yeji stumbles over the threshold and right into Yuna’s hug. “Thank you,” Yeji says in between giggles. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Sorry we’re late.” As soon as she’s inside the apartment, Yuna rushes to the couch to hug Jisu and Chaeryoung too.

“Yeah, someone took ages in the bathroom,” Ryujin explains with a pointed look at her sister while closing the door behind herself and Yeji. Ooh, there’s definitely some tension there.

“You’re one to talk. Your hair is easy to fix, Unnie!”

It obviously takes Ryujin a lot of self-control to limit her reaction to an eyeroll before finally hugging Yeji. “Happy Birthday, Jiji-ah. Be grateful you have a brother.”

Yeji just barely stops herself from bursting out laughing. “Brothers aren’t any better, trust me.”

“At least I don’t lose half a rabbit in hair every day,” Hyunjin eventually joins into the conversation. He had planned to go unnoticed for a bit longer, as he usually does. Since the couch is facing away from the kitchen his chances would have been pretty good if he had stayed quiet. But one has to defend themselves against defamation like that. Yeji scoffs at him, but Hyunjin ignores it in favour of bringing two more glasses to the couch table for Ryujin and Yuna before taking a seat on the bar stool by their little kitchen island.

“Anyways-” Jisu claps her hands together, effectively ending the almost fight- “now that everyone is here, we can finally get to the gifts!”

“Right!” Chaeryoung hurries to get the large bag she had set down in front of the hall stand and takes out two pastel-coloured boxes with ribbons wrapped around them. She smiles sweetly while coming back to the couch. “This is for you.” She hands one the boxes to Yeji before approaching Hyunjin, her smile turning a little more subtle. “And a little something for you.”

What? “For me?” Hyunjin asks while looking at the little mint green box now in his hands. It feels almost weird to accept the gift from Chaeryoung. He isn’t particular close with any of the girls, even less so after Yeji’s injury. Hyunjin can hardly endure being in a room with them for longer than a few minutes, which is why he’s been avoiding that as much as possible. Why would Yeji’s friends get a gift for him?

“Yeah. It’s your birthday too after all. I mean it’s really nothing big, but we wanted to give you a present too.” The tips of Chaeryoung’s ears turn pink as she talks.

“Thank you…” The last time Hyunjin got a gift from someone other than Yeji was ages ago. Aunt Minyoung had never really bothered with gifts; she had taken Hyunjin and Yeji out to eat on their birthday and that had been it. So getting gifts from Yeji’s friends – people who barely even know him – it feels strange. In a good way but still… weird.

Hyunjin unties the sky blue ribbon, lifts the lid of the box and is met with baby pink fluffiness. He reaches inside and pulls out the soft little thing, examining it from up close. “A hairband?” Hyunjin tries not to sound too confused, he really does, but he has no idea how Yeji’s friends got the idea of giving him a hairband.

“Yeji said your hair is getting way too long and keeps bothering you. She joked that she’d have to either buy you a hairband or cut your hair in your sleep,” Ryujin seems downright proud at having exposed Yeji’s slander of Hyunjin’s hair.

“We thought we should intervene before things get out of hand,” Yuna adds to it. Yeji and Ryujin are both giggling behind their hands. With the bit of context, Hyunjin can’t help but laugh as well. It also makes him want to hide all scissors in their apartment and start locking his door before going to bed, but that will have to wait. For now, he sets the box down on the table and starts putting the hairband on, though judging by the new increase in giggles he’s not doing a very good job. Luckily Chaeryoung is quick to come closer and fix the hairband for him.

“There you go,” she chimes, smiling when she takes a step back to observe her work. Somehow Chaeryoung can’t seem to look away. Hyunjin must be a sight with a pink hairband on his head.

“Looking good.” Thankfully, her words turn the room’s attention back to Yeji. Having everyone’s eyes on him was getting weird. Hyunjin and Chaeryoung eventually go to join the others. They push the coffee table against the wall and take a seat on the floor since it’s already a tight squeeze on the couch with Yeji, Ryujin, and Jisu there. As soon as Yeji opens her present, she starts laughing. “That’s a lot of chocolate.”

“Not just chocolate,” Yuna points out with an amused sparkling in her eyes. “There’s something else, but you need to find it first.” All of the girls look incredibly amused when Yeji laughs and starts unloading various chocolate bars, small boxes of filled chocolates and the like one by one. Basically, all her favourite chocolate snacks are featured in this present. Soon the already cramped couch is overflowing with little boxes and packages and Hyunjin starts to wonder how all of that was ever fit into the box.

“I think I found it!” Proudly, Yeji presents the small box she discovered at the bottom of the box. Her eyes grow wide when she opens it and peeks inside. “Oh my god,” she whispers while lifting a necklace out of the box and taking a closer look at it. The necklace consists of a rather plain, thin, golden chain with a flat heart shaped pendant dangling from it. “You really got that engraved?”

As the only one not involved in the gift, Hyunjin is absolutely clueless. He leans closer to Chaeryoung, whispering loud enough for only her to hear. “What does it say?”

Chaeryoung moves even closer before whispering into Hyunjin’s ear. “I believe in myself.” That’s such a sweet gift, considering the special place those words hold in Yeji’s heart. ‘I believe in myself’ has been her preferred motivational phrase since forever, but even more so after her injury.

“That’s a nice idea,” he replies as quietly as possible. Chaeryoung beams proudly and thanks Hyunjin. By now, Ryujin is helping Yeji put on the necklace while Yeji is checking her image with the front camera of Jisu’s phone.

“Thank you all so much. I love the necklace,” Yeji says with a bright smile. “And the chocolate of course.”

“You’re welcome,” the girls reply all at once before breaking into laughter at their unintentional synchronization. Hyunjin can’t help but smile at the whole scene. Yeji’s friends are such a cheerful lot and it always catches onto Yeji as well. She’s more carefree, more joyful around them. No matter how much Hyunjin avoids spending time with Yeji’s friends, he will always be grateful for everything they do for her.

“So now that the most important item on the agenda is done, how about we watch a movie?” Ryujin suggests when the laughter quiets down.

“Why do I feel like you already have something specific in mind?” Hyunjin scoots closer to the TV console filled with their CDs, DVDs and so on. It’s mostly old, but nonetheless valued, stuff: movies they already watched as kids, their first CDs and music their parents used to listen too.

“Howl’s moving castle,” Yuna suggests. Her face lights up when Yeji squeals in excitement. It’s Yeji’s favourite movie. Or rather their favourite movie, but Hyunjin doubts he really played a role in that choice. While Hyunjin turns to search for the right DVD, Ryujin switches on the TV. Whitin a second, the light atmosphere sours. Hyunjin grows tense when he looks up at the TV and realises why: the news channel that’s currently on is showing a report about yesterday’s Stray Kids attack. Hearing the words of the news lady makes Hyunjin’s blood freeze solid, even though he already checked the reports. Usually seeing the newscast after their missions isn’t this much of a problem – which is not to say it isn’t difficult – but now, with all of Yeji’s friends here, Hyunjin desperately wants to get away from here as soon as possible. How the hell is he supposed to not expose himself in front of everyone when the newsreader is talking about the injured Private?

“That reminds me.” Yuna’s voice sounds like it’s miles away. “I wanted to ask you how things are going with work. Were you at the attack yesterday?”

“No, sadly not. My unit said I need to really prepare myself first. I don’t want to rush things and end up being a burden to them. I want to make sure I’m actually ready before stepping out with everyone else,” Jisu explains.

“Then where were you during the attack?” Chaeryoung chimes in. Hyunjin can feel himself grow more and more and more nervous every time one of them speaks up. His heartbeat is hammering in his ears. He turns his head directs a pleading look at Yeji, hoping that she will be able to help somehow. But judging by her expression, she doesn’t know how to stop the conversation without being suspicious either. The DIT is an important topic for Yeji’s friends and trying to stop them whenever they talk about it or Stray Kids would soon catch the girl’s attention.

“I stayed in the rooms of the investigation team together with a lot of the other new members. Bang Chan and Park Kwangsun were there too. It was so weird to be around them.” Rather than just weirded out, Jisu sounds outright disgusted though. “I mean I know they were questioned by Lieutenant Yoon and all and officially help us now, but it just feels wrong to trust them. They’ve caused so much damage and harm and yet they were sitting there like regular members of the investigation team.”

The words cut through Hyunjin like knives. It’s so easy to forget what the average citizen thinks of Stray Kids when he’s living his regular life. This is like a hit in the face. If that’s Jisu’s opinion on Nine and Kkul – or rather Bang Chan and Park Kwangsun – what would she think of him who’s still out there going on missions? What would all of them think? Hyunjin takes a look at the girls and feels more and more stings in his heart realising that none of them would let him anywhere near Yeji anymore if they had any idea he’s a member of Stray Kids. When he meets Yeji’s gaze, she seems to know exactly what’s going on in Hyunjin’s head. There’s so much sadness in her eyes. A silent “I’m sorry.” hangs between them, which only makes Hyunjin feel worse. Yeji is the last person who should feel sorry for this situation. She’s the one suffering the most knowing that the most important people in her life are pitted against each other.

“I need to go,” Hyunjin blurts out before his brain can even think about it. “Totally forgot. My boss asked me to come in earlier today and help with stocktaking.”

A frown flickers across Yeji’s face but she’s quick to get it under control again. “Do you really have to go? Can’t someone else do it?”

“I’m afraid not. Sorry, ladies.” It’s hard to endure the pitying looks Ryujin, Yuna, Chaeryoung and Jisu give him. Poor birthday boy can’t even enjoy the party because he has to work. They have no idea. They don’t know anything. Hopefully they never will. “I wish you lots of fun, everyone. Don’t do anything stupid. And leave a piece of cake for me.”

Hyunjin quickly goes to his room and throws his door shut, feeling a bit of relief from just being out of the girls’ view. He releases a shaky breath and tries to collect himself. Hyunjin needs to get out of here as quickly as possible, he can’t bear this any longer. The looks, the talking about Stray Kids, everything. Hyunjin grabs his bag, drapes it over his shoulder, strides towards the door.

“Be careful!” Yeji calls when he’s already halfway through the door.

“Will do!” Bam. Silence. Peace. Loneliness. Now that Hyunjin’s alone in the hallway, he can barely hold back the tears any longer. He tries to stay as quiet as possible while hurrying into the elevator. Only when the doors close does he allow himself to really let go. Hyunjin quickly presses as many buttons as possible before letting himself sink to the ground. More and more sobs shake through his body as he hugs his legs to his chest. He has no idea how Yeji was able to handle this situation. All her friends developed a hatred for Stray Kids, or any sort of resistance really, after what happened to her. Hyunjin can’t even imagine how much pain he would be in if all of his friends hated his sister to death.

[-]

On his way home, Seungmin feels nothing but exhausted. Usually meeting up with I.N is fun, even though they have to be careful not to draw any attention towards them. But after yesterday’s events, I.N was still upset and their meeting became draining. Seungmin had hoped hanging out together would lift his spirits a bit, but it hadn’t done much good. Maybe it had been stupid of Seungmin to think cheering I.N up would be that easy. He shot at somebody else just yesterday. It must have been very traumatic for him. Thankfully, by now news has gotten out that the soldier in question is only mildly injured. Seungmin doesn’t want to know what it would do to I.N if he had caused serious or even lethal harm to someone. He can’t imagine what that would have been like for I.N, knowing he risked or much worse took someone’s life.

Despite the meeting with I.N having been rougher than expected, Seungmin doesn’t feel relieved when he’s standing in front of his home. As much as he loves his family, he doesn’t like being around any of them after missions. Every look, every word riles him up, makes him feel like they’re seeing right through him. It’s ridiculous and Seungmin knows it, but that doesn’t stop this horrible feeling from clawing its way into his chest. He doesn’t bother saying anything when he enters the house. Excellent ears run in the family;  everyone knows he’s home. Though rather than a voice, the noise of the TV greets Seungmin. It sounds like a newscast. Damnit. Of course, they’re watching the news. They’re always watching the news. Seungmin walks closer to the living room and peaks through the door, feeling a bit relieved when he realizes the report is about some sports team.

“Where were you?” Seungmin’s mother turns around as soon as she notices him. “You said you were going to be home for dinner.” Right, he did say that. Somehow he had completely forgotten about that while he was with I.N.

“I’m sorry. One of my friends is kind of going through a rough time and needed help.” It’s the closest to the truth Seungmin can be. He hates lying, especially to his family, but saying he helped a friend isn’t actually a lie. In a way he and I.N are friends after all. Though a regular person probably wouldn’t consider someone whose name they don’t know their friend. That doesn’t change anything for Seungmin though. The members mean a lot to him, real names or not.

“During the attack, a member of the DIT was injured. According to the officials, the injury is only minor.”

The words make Seungmin freeze up. He hadn’t noticed when the news had moved on to the recent Stray Kids attack. “Uhm,” he stammers, trying to regain his composure. Damnit, he had managed to avoid seeing news about their missions in the presence of his family for so long. Why did exactly this mission have to break the streak? “Leftovers are in the fridge?” Finally, an idea.

“Yes,” Minseo confirms. “We made sure to leave enough for you.” Her smile is so sweet it hurts Seungmin that it doesn’t feel genuine to him right now. It just stresses him out even more. Thinking that his sister knows what’s going on, where he was or with whom is ridiculous. Minseo has no way of knowing he’s part of Stray Kids and if she did she wouldn’t be sitting here so calmly. But Seungmin can’t help it. When it gets to hiding his identity, he sees the worst everywhere.

“Thanks.” Seungmin turns on his heel and heads into the kitchen. He quickly grabs himself some food for himself and runs upstairs. When he reaches his room, he puts everything down on his desk and lets himself plop down on his chair. Seungmin closes his eyes and gathers himself. He’s alone. He’s safe. Nobody knows he’s DaN. Everything is fine. There’s nothing to worry about.

If only it was really that easy.

[-]

“Damn, I thought I was early,” Yeonjun notes while dropping his bag in front of the lockers. He isn’t entirely wrong. Despite going grocery shopping for lack of a better alternative, Hyunjin ended up coming in a lot earlier than needed. The emptiness of the bar was just too appealing to pass up on. This must be the first time he’s been here before Yeonjun; of course that wouldn’t go unnoticed.

“Ah yeah, my plans for the evening got cancelled so I thought I’d come in a little earlier, clean the counter and all.” Hyunjin is aware of how ridiculous his explanation sounds. Who the hell goes to work when they have free time? As expected, Yeonjun doesn’t seem convinced. Not one bit.

“Sure, because what else would you do when you have some time to spare?” Despite his words, Yeonjun doesn’t push it, instead starting to change into his uniform. Hyunjin turns his head away to give Yeonjun some privacy. Well, as much privacy as one can have while changing in a cramped room with another person in it. “Did you already refill the straws and napkins?”

“Yup.” Hyunjin nods even though Yeonjun probably isn’t looking at him. “Everything done.”

“Great, thanks.” Yeonjun walks over to the mirror, fixes a few strands of his auburn dyed hair before turning towards Hyunjin. “Since we have some time left before costumers come and we have no other job to kill time with, are you going to tell me what you’re running away from?” That much on not pushing it. Of course Yeonjun wouldn’t just let it slide.

“I had a fight with my sister,” Hyunjin lies, despite feeling horrible about telling more lies. The fact that he has gotten so used to this makes it even worse. He just comes up with stuff like this on the spot and is able to keep a straight face like it’s nothing. Admittedly, he isn’t always convincing. That’s only a matter of time though. Hyunjin knows he should be grateful for that ability, but he hates it. “I forgot to do the laundry and things kind of… escalated.” At this point, getting to be honest about things that aren’t related to Stray Kids in any way has become a relief. Something as simple as being allowed to mention Yeji already makes things feel a little easier. More normal. It’s so trivial, but Hyunjin enjoys still getting to speak some truth about himself.

Yeonjun nods despite the fact that he doesn’t really seem to buy it yet again. “And you’re hoping that will solve itself if you go to work?”

“Not exactly, but I needed to get out of our apartment,” Hyunjin explains. At the very least, that part is true. He couldn’t have stayed with the girls a single second longer. “Also, by the time I come home she’s going to be asleep. So we’ll have lots of time to calm down and talk about everything again tomorrow.”

Yeonjun shakes his head at Hyunjin’s reasoning. “If you ask me, you should do that laundry before your sister gets up.”

“Yeah, I’ll try.”

Yeonjun changes the rest of the way in silence. When he’s done, they walk over into the main room. It’s still too early for costumers and since Hyunjin already prepared everything there’s not really anything to do. Thankfully the topic of his alleged fight with Yeji stayed in the locker room. Hyunjin really would not have wanted to try and justify this stupid laundry story any longer. Their chatter now is kind of boring, but Hyunjin definitely prefers that over lies and excuses. For lack of a better way to pass their time, he and Yeonjun start examining the bottles on their work surface, checking which of them are close to empty and will have to be replaced soon. The downside of being busy with the bottles is that their conversation dies down, which leaves Hyunjin way too alone with the negative thoughts and memories of the party.

“Hyunjin-oppa! Finally!” Chaeryoung’s voice has never sounded this troubled, at least Hyunjin has never heard her like this. Of course three missed calls and urgent sounding messages weren’t going to be a good sign, but the panic in her voice seems more extreme than Hyunjin expected.

“What’s going on? What happened?” Every rapid heartbeat made Hyunjin even more nervous. Chaeryoung wouldn’t call him like this if it wasn’t serious. She never calls him. She barely even messages him. And since she apparently insisted on calling him specifically, there was only one possible reason. “Is something wrong with Yeji?”

“Yes she-” Chaeryoung gulped as though it was hard for her to speak. Hyunjin couldn’t take the wait, the moment felt like an eternity. “We’re in the hospital. The Red Cross Hospital. Please come here as soon as you can.” Hospital. Yeji was in hospital. Fuck. Hyunjin couldn’t stop the memories from crashing down on him: following the nurse through the hallways, knocking at the big dark door, walking into the sterile room. The images felt like dozens of bricks pressing down on Hyunjin’s chest. He could barely breathe.

“I’m on my way.” His voice sounded choked up, but Hyunjin couldn’t care less. He needed to see Yeji, see if she was fine. Even if it meant going to a hospital. What could have possibly happened? Part of Hyunjin wished that he had asked more questions, but Chaeryoung hadn’t sounded like she was in the right condition for lengthy explanations. Maybe there wasn’t time either. Fuck, Hyunjin needed to hurry.

The ride was hell to say the least. Hyunjin couldn’t stop himself from being nervous and fidgety. It didn’t help one bit that he had just come home from a mission that was now flickering across the screens in the subway. A weird feeling started spreading through Hyunjin when the news lady started talking about civilians getting hurt. That simply wasn’t possible. There were hardly any people around when they attacked, and the DIT was supposed to keep civilians away, so how would any of them get close enough to get injured? It was probably a lie, propaganda against them. That had to be it.

Getting out of the subway and that damned news report made Hyunjin feel a bit better, but only momentarily. Every step towards his destination made his heart race even faster and chest feel even tighter. Hyunjin hated hospitals. A hospital was the last place he wanted to be at, but there was no way around it. He would have to get his act together. For Yeji.

Hyunjin let himself be led into the waiting room by one of the nurses at the front desk, freezing when he saw Yeji’s friends. The girls looked like they had rolled around on the ground of a construction side. Their hair and clothing were covered in dust. Taking a closer look, Hyunjin noticed their reddened eyes, as though they had been crying. He also spotted several band aids on them and other, smaller cuts that weren’t covered. Ryujin had a bandage around her head. Hyunjin guessed all the adults around the girls were their respective parents. He scanned every face in the room, but Yeji wasn’t here. Oh god.

“Oppa!” Chaeryoung got up and jogged towards him. She talked louder than usual; normally her voice was rather quiet. Hyunjin only now realised it wasn’t just panicked, it was almost like she had headphones on and was trying to talk over music.

“What happened?” Sobbing caught Hyunjin’s attention, making him look up to find Yuna crying into her mother’s shoulder. “Where’s Yeji?”

“Stray Kids, they- they attacked the department of education.” No. No that couldn’t be the reason. They were careful. They were always careful. Yeji and her friends weren’t even inside the building; there’s no way they were hit by the explosion. It just couldn’t be. But the evidence was all around Hyunjin. “We were on our way to run some errands when everything blew up behind us-”

“What about Yeji? Is she okay?” Hyunjin could hear the panic in his own voice by now. He just had to know Yeji was okay already.

“I have no idea,” Chaeryoung admitted. Tears started to flood her eyes once again. She couldn’t seem to look up at Hyunjin any longer. “They’re still operating on her.”

“Costumers.”

“What?” Hyunjin’s head snapped up. Gone are the white walls and blindingly bright lights. The room is dark grey, the light subdued. This isn’t a hospital. Thank god. It takes a while until Hyunjin is able to focus on Yeonjun in front of him. “What did you say?”

Yeonjun doesn’t get to answer since he’s already taking some guy’s order. Still feeling a bit fuzzy, Hyunjin checks his watch. 8.03. They’re actually open by now. He must have zoned out for quite a while. As soon as the costumer is sent off with his drinks, Yeonjun turns towards Hyunjin again. “Had a nice time in dreamland?”

“Not really,” Hyunjin admits. The memory is still heavy like chains around his heart. He really tries his best not to remember that day, but sometimes it all just comes crashing onto him. Tonight is going to be anything but pleasant, Hyunjin already knows that. He never sleeps well on days like this, no matter how tired he is after his shift.

Yeonjun steps closer, speaking in a low voice. “Is this still about your sister?”

“Yeah.” Hyunjin takes a look around, making sure the two only costumers they have are far enough away. “I feel so bad for what happened. I should have just done the laundry and not started a fight about it.” Yes, very convincing. He got overwhelmed by the traumatic experience of fighting over household chores.

“Agreed.” Yeonjun smiles and pats Hyunjin’s back. “Hey, I’m sure if you apologise and do the laundry everything will be fine.”

“I guess you’re right…”

“Of course I am,” Yeonjun sounds almost offended Hyunjin would ever assume anything else. “That’s why you listen to your elders.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “You say it as though you’re some 106 year old wise guy of the town. You’re one year older than me.”

“One year can make a lot of difference.” Yeonjun wags his finger in Hyunjin’s face. “Talk to me again in one year and see how much has changed.” Hyunjin tries to think of a comeback, but before his brain can provide him with anything another group of costumers walks in. Yeonjun winks at Hyunjin before going back to the counter and accepting the first order. Sighing, Hyunjin straightens his back, puts his costumer service smile on and starts helping Yeonjun prepare the drinks.

[-]

They’re really getting training now. Somehow just the thought lets a smile bloom on Kwangsun’s face. After all, none of the higher-ups would have agreed on sending them off to missions if they didn’t trust him and Chan, right? Okay, maybe trust is too strong of a word for that, but it’s definitely a good sign. In their situation every little step forward should be celebrated. Especially steps like this.

Kwangsun has a slight skip in his step as he walks into the kitchen, starting to look for stuff he can use to cook dinner for them. Though since they haven’t been grocery shopping in a while, there’s not really a lot to work with. They only have rice and noodles to be precise. Yup, plain rice would make a great celebration meal. Maybe Kwangsun should go grocery shopping? It’s not that late yet, he could go buy more ingredients to cook some proper meal for them. Kimchi jjigae would be awesome. If he’s already out and about, he should buy more than just the ingredients though. Some snacks wouldn’t hurt either. And they’re short on tissues and apple juice. Is there anything else? Kwangsun feels like he’s forgetting something. Don’t they need more shampoo too? Or is it soap? The answer feels within his reach but Kwangsun can’t quite grasp it.

“Chan-ah?” he calls, already leaving the kitchen. There’s no way both of them forgot, right? Plus, Chan might have wishes of his own, which Kwangsun would be happy to fulfil if Chan just replied. Still starved for a reply, Kwangsun walks down the hallway and opens the door to Chan’s room. “I’m going gro-”

Kwangsun freezes in the door frame, completely still. He forgot to knock, which was a mistake. Chan specifically requested it when they moved in. How did he not remember something that simple? Just having come out of the shower, Chan is still shirtless. That by itself really wouldn’t be a big deal if it wasn’t for the long, faint pink lines raking over Chan’s back. Most of them crisscross over his spine at the height of his ribcage, but some extend to his shoulders as well as lower back.

Chan’s entire back is covered in scars.

It only now dawns upon Kwangsun that he’s never seen Chan without a shirt, not even when in the practice room today. How did Chan even manage to change that quickly? And how come Kwangsun hadn’t realized how much Chan must have hurried to hide this? Or questioned how urgently Chan had insisted that Kwangsun knocks whenever he enters his room?

“What the fucking hell are you doing here?!” The aggression in Chan’s voice is so foreign. He’s never sounded like this, not during missions or while discussing plans or anything. Kwangsun’s heart drops to his knees. Chan is scary right now. His jaw is set and his face pulled into a scowl. His gaze has an intensity that has Kwangsun’s throat go dry. This is bad, this is really bad. Chan stumbles backwards and presses himself against his closet while trying to cover himself with the shirt in his hands. The mixture of anger and horror on Chan’s face makes Kwangsun feel like a monster, as though he murdered Chan’s family right in front of his very eyes.

“I’m sorry, I-” Kwangsun can’t seem to form proper words. He honestly has no idea what he would even say except apologising for barging into Chan’s room like that. Though he feels like an apology won’t cut it.

“Get out!” Chan screams, losing his patience. Kwangsun has never heard Chan yell before. “Get the hell out! Leave me alone!” He comes closer as though he’s planning to personally drag Kwangsun out of the room. Kwangsun nods hastily and rushes outside as quickly as possible. His heart is racing like crazy when the door slams shut behind him. The abstract painting on the wall next to Kwangsun trembles with the force of it.

“And fucking knock next time!”

[changbeanie]

youngblood ↠ lee minho

◦ genre: college!au, best friends to lovers!au; angst, fluff

◦ pairings: reader x minho

◦ word count: 17.4k

◦ description: lee minho crashes at your apartment four out of seven days in a week, but you’re the crashing for him.

◦ warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol, suggestive, slow af burn

◦ a/n: hello after 4 months of not writing !!! self-quarantine brings out the best in me (due to lack of responsibilities) & here’s the fic I’ve been working on for the past week; I hope you like it :)

one.

Lee Minho tells you that he drowned his AirPods during that one campfire social by the beach and that he can’t afford to buy a new pair because he’s a dirt poor, money-starved college student who survives solely off of Shin Ramyun and its complementary mushroom flakes.

You know this because 1) he’s mentioned it before during the ten-minute break of your three-hour-long marketing lecture and even got the professor involved in a heated discussion about Apple’s obligation to make all of their product lines waterproof for maximum customer brand loyalty, 2) the past several calls with him have been staticy and demonic sounding, and 3) he actually FaceTimed you during his grocery trip last weekend and asked whether he should buy two five-packs of Shin Ramyun or one. You said one, but you’re pretty sure Minho’s too fucking weak to pass up on that two-for-one deal.

So here you are, grocery shopping on a Friday night (because you’ll never wake up early on a Saturday morning) and listening to your best friend wail about his misfortunes through the phone as you’re slapping every watermelon you come in contact with.

“Can you buy me Girl Scout cookies on your way back?” Minho asks when you’re picking out what flavor of ice cream you’re having next week when you decide to cram for finals. It’s a coping mechanism, you convince yourself.

“No? Can’t you walk down to the market and buy it yourself?” You ask pointedly, creasing your brows disbelief. “That’s not something a broke college student would ask for. Five dollars a box? Please. I could buy two dozen eggs to last me a month.”

“But I want to stay in bed and finish the paper due tonight,” he whines. “How do you sleep going around and crushing little girls’ dreams like that?”

You make a grab for the ice cream sandwiches on the third refrigerator shelf; there are six individual bars in one box—okay, so you’ll have at least some self-control and not devour the entirety in one sitting. “With earplugs and a sign outside my door that writes ‘DO NOT DISTURB’ in a fat, red sharpie,” you tell him. “And don’t act as if you’re not already out of bed. I know Fridays are your barhopping nights with Chan.”

“Can’t anymore. Chan’s got a group project, and his team members can’t meet until 11 PM because this one guy has lacrosse practice until then,” Minho concedes with a sigh. “Oh, and I have a paper due midnight.” He says it like it’s no big deal. Like it’s an afterthought. You’ve taken that class before; that paper is worth twenty-five percent of his grade.

“Who the heck has lacrosse practice at 11 PM? Everyone knows that the university’s too cheap to turn on the stadium lights.”

“Beats me,” he says, and you hear shuffling on his side of the call. “I hate this stupid essay. I could have been at Johnny’s frat party tonight. They even brought a whole rodeo inside the bar!”

You scoff and toss a loaf of wheat bread into your basket. “Right? Too bad you decided to procrastinate and cram your paper on a totally party-able Friday night,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “I need to check out now. Call you back later.”

“Wait!” Minho exclaims, nearly bursting your eardrums. “Aren’t you going to ask if I want anything?”

“What does my grocery shopping have anything to do with you? Do you live with me? Are you a parasite? Because I would lock you in the basement and let you starve to death,” you accuse, lining up in the self-checkout line. Wow, people (you) are so misanthropic these days… the cashiers might lose their jobs.

“Hah! You don’t have a basement,” he counters, “I’m standing outside your apartment complex.”

You let out a deep sigh and step out of the checkout line; now you have to feed him. “What happened to ‘I’m too fucking busy working on my essay’?” you mimic him.

“I brought my laptop.” You can practically see him grinning and bouncing on his toes outside your apartment complex right now. “Plus, everyone knows you’re not doing anything on Friday nights besides watching The Bachelor and crying when your favorites get eliminated.”

“Bro, reality TV… these bitches be throwing each other under the bus,” you mumble as you pick up a frozen pesto pizza for Minho. You never really understood his penchant for frozen pizzas, especially not since you live beside two pizza chains. “I live vicariously through the drama.” 

“Yeah, you almost threw hands at your TV when Jillian got eliminated. I swore Jisoo lost ten years of her life when the remote control missed her TV by a hair.” He’s talking about the time where you and your roommates decided to invite a few of the guys over, and you made an executive decision to make everyone watch The Bachelor (Felix high-key loves it). And when Jason decided to Not Give Jillian the rose, you lost all your cool.

While you’re still at the frozen dinner aisle, you toss in a pack of frozen chicken nuggets for late-night snacking. Who knows what you’ll crave during the middle of next week? “Listen. That woman did not go through The Bachelor and The Bachelorette consecutively to not find love. Homegirl may be married now, but at what cost!”

“You’re so dramatique,” Minho muses, pretending to be his visual arts professor who had a little too much fun during his trip to Paris. You know this because you scrolled through Minho’s Instagram that one time and saw a post of him pretending to be a mime—you’ve never touched his phone since. “Hurry up. I feel like I’m feeding mosquitoes out here.”

“Well, I hope they have a feast tonight!”

“Ooh, so you think that I’m a whole meal?” he gasps loudly. “Ballsy. I like it.”

Minho doesn’t hear what you have to say next because you’ve already hung up. 

But on your way out, you see girl scouts doing their little memorized pitch of why you should buy their overpriced (though decently delectable) cookies. Reluctantly, you hand the smiling girl a crisp five-dollar bill and throw a box of Thin Mints into your tote bag.

two.

The first thing Minho does when he enters your apartment is set the oven to preheat at 550 degrees. For his frozen pizza. Because God forbid he starve.

“What’s your paper on again?”

“Surveillance capitalism,” Minho groans and shuffles through your kitchen cabinets for something to place his pizza on. “Why? Do you want to write it for me?”

“You fucking wish,” you dismiss with a chuckle. “I’m not about to make myself sad tonight.”

He grabs a pair of crocodile mitts from your drawers and holds them up to your face, snapping the jaws together like he’s a fucking five-year-old. “Says the one who’s about to cry over a Nicholas Sparks movie. I see your Netflix history,” he supplies unhelpfully. Can you blame yourself for wanting to cry for no apparent reason once (a week) in a while?

“Maybe you should open your own Netflix account then–oh wait, you can’t. Because you’re a parasite,” you say, eyes widening. Okay, you can’t help but reference the Oscar-winning movie when it comes to Minho, even if he was practically dying during that one scene. Everyone and everyone’s parents know about that scene. Longest scene ever.

“But I’m your parasite,” he beams, lips curving up, makes him look like a cat. A very annoyingly cute cat with stupidly good hair.

“I would starve you.”

Minho grabs the bright green box of Thin Mints from your tote and smiles like he’s come home from war; he raises an eyebrow skeptically. “I thought you said Girl Scout cookies were overpriced and would rather buy two cartons of eggs.”

“I have enough eggs?” you shrug, holding your breath at the sight of your empty carton. Shit, you knew you forgot to buy something.

“Thin Mints are my favorite though.”

You clear your throat and proceed to restock your fridge with produce and milk. “You’re not the only one who likes Thin Mints. How narcissistic of you to think that way,” you say primly. The fridge is empty because a few of your roommates went home for the weekend. Not for long though. Jisoo usually comes back with thousands of side dishes and bags of rice cakes that her mom packs for her, so she won’t have to cook a day in her life.

“Wasn’t Narcissus like the most handsome dude in Greece?” He wiggles his brows and adds, “Are you calling me… hot?” 

You pretend to not hear him because yes. Yes, he is attractive—hot, if you may. Like when he runs his fingers through his hair, brushing it back to reveal his smooth forehead with perfectly made eyebrows every single time he feels frustrated about homework. Or when he’s feeling philanthropic and decides to help you carry Big and Heavy boxes for your student council meetings (because no one ever shows up on time), completely showing off his gains from gyming with Chan and Changbin. But in no way shape or form will you tell your best friend that he’s hot and send his ego flying off into a parallel universe where Alternative Y/N also has a fat crush on him. Nope. Not in a million years.

“For your information, Narcissus was also the same guy who fell in love with his own reflection and got big sad when he couldn’t be with himself.”

Minho looks not at all sympathetic and says, “Yeah, but could you hand me the pizza?”

“Do you only care about food?” You hand him the box regardless. Your apartment’s so old that you sometimes end up having an irrational fear of the oven and how it might explode when you’re in the kitchen. Jisoo calls you paranoid. Lisa calls you stupid. Minho straight up doesn’t care because he’d rather be blown up than starve himself.

“No,” he says with a huff, wincing when the hot oven heat waves hit his face, “I care about you too.”

You don’t show it, but you think your heart skipped a few beats–

“Because you buy me food,” he finishes, dusts off his hands after he shoves the pizza in the oven.

–in anger.

Minho sets the timer for eight minutes and makes a beeline for your living room, catapults himself onto your leather couch like he’s a grenade, sound effects and all. He takes Lisa’s pillow with a horoscope palm reading stitched onto it and tucks it behind his head, his foot dangling off the side because he’s a few inches too long for your three-seater couch.

“Please tell me you’re not about to take a nap.”

“And miss you sobbing over Dear John? What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t record that and post it on my Snapchat story?” he asks with faux concern. He makes you sound like a sappy romance movie junkie (only on occasion!); you sort of hate him.

“A good best friend,” you deadpan, walking over to where he’s getting cozy on the couch.

Minho drapes an arm over his eyes, finding the lamp too bright for his liking (because he lives in a cave he calls his room). “You know I prefer showing up unannounced at your apartment and surprising you with my holy presence,” he says calmly, voice smooth. 

“Wow, I must be so blessed. Aren’t I lucky?” you chide, taking a seat beside him on the carpet, knees pulled tight against your chest. 

You will never forget the night he came banging on the door of your shared apartment, batshit drunk, at 2 AM and demanding that you open up and buy him donuts. You only rush to open the door to get him to shut the fuck up—because the neighbors will complain to the landlord about your questionable activities past midnight—and drag him inside by the collar. Drunk Minho ends up eating the last of your toaster strudels thinking that they’re square donuts, and you end up texting Woojin a series of angry texts asking why he couldn’t bother driving an extra three minutes to drop Minho off at his own apartment.

“You are The Lucky One,” he grins smugly.

“Please stop using Nicholas Sparks references on me, I will not hesitate to kick you to the curb.”

three.

“How’s that essay going?”

“Uh huh,” Minho says, dismissing you with a wave of his hand and the other reaching over your lap for another handful of honey mustard pretzels. 

Your face makes a scowl when you look over to his laptop, neglected and throw off to the side, to see that he has written his name (not even his full name, just “Minho”), his section number, tomorrow’s due date, and a title that says “tbd :D” in parentheses. “Bitch, you haven’t even started,” you say, pointing at the screen.

“Shh, John’s about to go off to war. What if he never comes back?”

Shutting your eyes, you press your temple against your fingers, kicking yourself for forgetting how crappy of an attention span your best friend has. “I think everyone knows that he comes home from war. All of the movies end happily!”

“But it’s not the same! You know what happened to his father!” Minho exclaims, leaning his head back to shove a handful of pretzels in his mouth, chews obnoxiously like he’s totally pissed at the filmmakers.

“Yet here you are, rewatching the movie instead of working on your paper that is due in three hours,” you say, leaning onto the sofa arm.

“I’m a CS major,” he clarifies knowingly, “This class won’t affect my major GPA. It’s just some elective I need to fulfill a requirement. Who knew there was so much writing involved? Ugh, I should have dropped it during Week 5.”

The battle scene flashes on the television screen and casts an orangey glow on Minho’s face, makes him look like some sort of god. But whatever, it’s not like you’re admiring the bridge of his nose and staring at his long fucking eyelashes or anything. “Why did you take marketing then? CS majors don’t usually have minors,” you ask him.

“Because I get to spend time with my wonderful best friend that is you.” Minho glances over at you and makes brief eye contact. 

You want to etch this moment into your brain permanently and slide it into a photo book for you to revisit ten years later when you’re married to someone who isn’t Lee Minho. Even though you shudder at the thought of marriage and commitment, you can’t help but wonder what it feels like to be someone’s and have them be yours.

“Shut up. You just want a GPA booster,” you point out.

“What can I say? C++ takes a toll on your mental health and tanks your GPA. Not everything is as easy as Java,” he sighs.

“Hmm, I love it when you speak Python to me. So sexy, please continue.”

Your best friend scoffs, not having the heart to tell you that all three of the aforementioned are actually different languages. Then, Minho’s phone buzzes in the pocket of his sweatpants, and it’s a Snapchat notification from Chan. You peek over, and it’s an unimpressed selfie of Chan with no filter, eyebags on full display, that reads “walked halfway across campus to find that the taco place is closed… huge L”. You chuckle for good measure, watching as Minho snaps a picture himself stuffing his mouth with a slice of sad, lukewarm pizza. 

“Why are they working on a project on a Friday night when there’s the whole weekend?” you wonder.

“His group mates are big lacrosse players. They have a game this weekend, so they want to finish it by tonight.”

“You CS majors are kind of nerdy,” you note. You picture Chan and a couple of buff dudes with gear surrounding a small round table on the first floor of the library, and there’s just a bunch of energy drinks, empty coffee cups, and nutrient bar wrappers littered around them. They’re pulling an all-nighter, coding in complete silence, occasionally nodding off and discussing a few main points here and there. But you know Chan, he always pulls through and gets an A on every project he’s ever worked on; no wonder all the girls (you) have had a crush on him at one point.

Right then, the front door bursts open and an unusually happy-looking Lisa walks in. You know something’s up because she always looks rough after class, and the last time she was this happy was when her professor got food poisoning and all her classes for the next week were canceled. Morbid, but understandable. “Guess what?” She hums, swinging her arm over your shoulder.

“You dropped out of college.”

Lisa sneers and throws a pillow at Minho’s timely comment. “No, fuck you,” she scowls, points a finger at him accusingly. “I’m going on a date tomorrow!”

“You said you were done with dating apps! Remember that time your last Tinder date asked you to pay for his Airbnb because he got kicked out of his apartment. He didn’t even pay back the twenty dollars he owed you for his meal!” You splutter, grabbing her shoulders forcibly. Maybe if you shake her hard enough, she’ll reconsider and raincheck the guy with some lame excuse.

“No, no. This guy’s from my CS class, so why not?” Lisa removes your hands from her shoulders and holds them between her own like she’s about to give the most heartfelt speech of her life. Like it’s she’s getting married and making you her Maid of Honor. 

Minho freezes and gasps, “No way. Whose heart are you going to break now?”

“Yours. If you don’t shut up and let me finish my story.” 

“Okay, so what happened?” You interrupt before Lisa actually decides that she wants to go to jail and strangles Lee Minho to death. Really, she’d do anything to get out of attending lecture.

“You know we have weekly coding assignments, right?” You nod, and she continues, blatantly ignoring Minho in the background because he’s rolling his eyes to the moon. “I was asking him about my code because I’m a dumb bitch, and then he asked me whether or not I wanted to run his code. I say yes, naturally, since he’s smart. And guess what he did?”

Minho narrows his eyes in disgust and props his chin on your shoulder, glaring your roommate down. “Don’t tell me he added an extra line of prompt asking you to go out with him.”

“Yes! And like, it's a free lunch… so I can’t say no. Plus, he put so much effort into this. I’d actually feel bad if I rejected him,” she explains with steady eye contact. That’s a fat surprise—Lisa might not break his heart this time. You always knew, deep down, she was soft for grand romantic gestures. 

“That was the most fucking nerdy thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” you state, “I stand corrected… CS majors are extremely nerdy.”

“But it’s so cute!” Lisa lets out a high pitched squeal and basically collapses on top of you. Then, she sits up straight and remembers that her arch-nemesis, Lee Minho, is also present. “What’s he doing here again?”

You shake your head helplessly. “Being a parasite, as per usual,” you breathe.

“Save that slice of pizza for me and consider tonight’s stay free of charge,” she tells Minho as she stands up from the couch, ready to run into her bedroom and change into jammies. 

Minho smiles fakely. “You know, I never liked you.”

“I’ll hook us up with boba orders. Woojin’s closing tonight.”

“Because I love you! More than I love Y/N.” Nice save.

“The fuck?” You say, pretending to be extremely offended, clutching your heart and all. Like it hurts more than one of the top ten anime betrayals. But you know he’s always like this. You’d be like this too. You would drop him in a heartbeat for a jasmine green tea with cheese foam.

four.

The previous night, you texted Jisoo if you could sleep on her bed because your twin size bed is too small to fit both you and Minho’s fat ass. She texted back “knock yourself out”, so it’s fair to say that you have the best roommate ever. 

Minho ended up turning his paper in (sans proofreading) at 11:59 PM, one minute before the Turnitin deadline. As a reward for finishing a whole research paper in less than three hours, he decided to gift himself a brand new pair of AirPods to replace the ones that Han Jisung trashed when he tossed him into the ocean. And like the good best friend you are, you even bought him an AirPods case cover; it’s a little lame, but you got him a strawberry milk one to match your banana milk. It’ll arrive in a few days.

Currently, your beauty sleep is rudely interrupted by your alarm that you forgot to turn off the night before, the one at 10 AM for your 12 PM class. You see, that two-hour gap is very much necessary considering you require time to force yourself to wake up, scroll through Twitter and stalk Jungkook (your husband), respond to messages, think about life/have a mid-college crisis in bed, actually manage to get up and change into presentable clothes, wash up, and then rummage through the fridge to see what’s edible before the bus leaves.

But today’s a Saturday, and waking up to the sound of your annoying alarm is not a pleasant one. You crack open one eye to see that the room’s still dark, to see Minho snoring softly on your pillow, your mom’s ugly floral duvet thrown over his head with his feet peeking out the ends of it. You groan, rolling over and swiping randomly on your phone screen to turn off the alarm.

The noise, however, causes Minho to shift in his sleep as he stretches his limbs out like a starfish, a hand punching through the air. He pulls the blanket away from his face and takes a deep breath. He turns to his side and looks up at you, hair disheveled as he squints through layers of sleep. 

“Sorry, I forgot to turn my alarm off,” you whisper apologetically. “You can go back to sleep.”

“S’okay. I usually get up around this time to work out before class starts,” he mumbles back. Minho rubs the sleep away from his eyes and sticks his entire leg out. You almost giggle at the sight of his checkered pajama pants and baggy t-shirt combo. The shirt is yours, from that one time Lisa brought you to a strip club, and you managed to win a free t-shirt (and lap dance) during trivia night; you gladly accepted the t-shirt but gave Lisa the honors of experiencing a lap dance. To this day, you still crack up when you listen to Poker Face.

“What a beast,” you waggle your eyebrows tiredly before falling back in bed. “Today, the student council and I have a meeting planned for next Friday’s Yule Ball event. As secretary, I need to have everything arranged by Monday to start setting up on Tuesday.”

Minho nestles his face into your deflated pillow and stares ahead like a confused animal. “So far you have…”

You shut your eyes and mentally run through the spreadsheet you’ve been compiling for three weeks now. “I have 3RACHA for music, Woojin on bartending Harry Potter-themed drinks, and Hyunjin and Felix working on decorations. The president, Seungmin, is managing check-in and social media presence, and other board members like JenLisa are securing the ballroom and helping with decorations. Jeongin is working with me to have all the shit running smoothly and picking up the slack, especially with the university’s dining hall… these workers are so lazy! You’re working on the photobooth with Rosé because she needs help carrying props. Jisoo will help with check-in, but I might need all hands on deck if more than five hundred students decide to attend,” you share, and now Minho looks more lost than ever.

“Ooh, is there Firewhisky?” Minho decides to ask after the massive spiel you delivered. He never quite gets the point, does he?

“No alcohol. It’s an on-campus event,” you comment, rolling your eyes. “If you want alcohol, just raid Woojin’s fridge or something.”

“Damn, that’s so much to do. No wonder Seungmin’s been extra mean this week.”

“Yeah. We’re all meeting for lunch today, but like… there’s still so much to do. And will we even have everything ready to go by Friday? We still have to paint all the house banners and hang the lights. Who said Hogwarts needed to have four houses? Why not just Gryffindor and Slytherin?”

Minho laughs aloud at that and says with a loopy smile, half sitting up and half reclining on your fat Gudetama plush. “You, my friend, are a Ravenclaw,” he feels the need to tell you. 

“And I am more than ready to transfer houses and be a Gryffindor,” you say enthusiastically, clapping your hands together.

“So I could be the Draco to your Hermione?” He drawls, a hand coming up behind his head to prop it up. Minho knows about your unhealthy obsession with Dramione fanfiction (best to ever exist by the way). The Romione ship is just… subpar. No offense.

“No,” you snap, “So Chan could be the Draco to my Hermione.” 

He sees the wistful smile on your face and nearly throws the Gudetama plush at you. “You still like him? It’s been what? Three years?”

“No! You know everyone has liked Chan at one point! I bet you even liked Chan at one point,” you accuse, crossing your arms in front of you. Jisoo’s bed is too soft, so your back’s all sore now.

“I mean… when he drives me home after our bar hopping dates and buys me carne asada tacos on the way back… let’s elope and move back to Australia,” Minho mumbles dreamily, proving your point. Bang Chan is like everyone’s ideal type, kind of annoying really. You sort of feel sad for whoever has to date CB97 and deal with girls (and boys) throwing themselves at him. 

Then again, Minho’s no different. He’s just less outgoing, less engaging in college events, but he still has the occasional admirer who would give up a kidney for him. Too bad your best friend’s the most misanthropic person on earth and doesn’t give two shits about most people outside of his social sphere. Minho’s almost “tsundere” for lack of a better word, and boy do girls dig that.

Sluggishly, you kick off your blankets to head to the kitchen to make two cups of cold brew with soy milk. It’s a routine at this rate. “I hope he feeds you to the man-eating spiders as a late-night snack,” you add before yawning.

“Did you just call me a snacc? Because you know I am, babe.”

“You’re so annoying,” you whine with an exasperated sigh. “Seungmin’s picking me up at 11:30. What are your plans for the day?”

Minho’s scrolling through his phone as he’s still blinking the sleep away, brown hair, soft skin, all bundled up in your bedsheets like he belongs there. He looks decent. More than decent, actually. He’s just an unfairly beautiful piece of shit. “I have dance practice with Hyunjin at noon, and then we’ll swing by to see what you guys need help on?” he says with an eyebrow raise, turning to look at you.

“Well, aren’t you benevolent today?” You snort, walking to your closet to fish out a pair of leggings and one of your many massive hoodies. 

“Magnanimous, if I may.”

“Shut up,” you chuckle, “Coffee will be on the counter. Food, wherever. You know my apartment better than I do. Just tell Lisa to lock up before she goes on her date.”

Truthfully, you sort of want to stay in bed with him. Just lounging there without a care in the world. Free of college responsibilities. Knowing Minho, he’ll give you an extensive movie review of Joker or something, and how much Joaquin Phoenix deserved that Oscar for losing that much weight (healthily, of course) to get into character. And maybe you’ll even gather enough courage to wrap your arms around his torso, and maybe he’ll do the same. 

Maybe he wants you to be his just as much as you want him to be yours.

five.

Rosé and Seungmin send out at least a thousand university emails. It’s not clout, you swear.

Your infallible marketing strategy targets students who have expressed even the slightest bit of interest in the Harry Potter franchise, and thanks to surveillance capitalism, you’d like to say you’ve narrowed it down to at least a good fraction of the population. The ballroom capacity is only seven hundred, but you think that it’s safer to have more guests than not enough guests; plus, things always come up, especially on a Friday before a long weekend.

“Do we have all the materials yet? We have enough funding for backup?” Seungmin asks as he stretches his arms over his head, leans back in his chair for a well-deserved five seconds. You feel the strain in your back too—it’s been seven hours since your last saw Minho. The lamp fixtures in the boba shop flicker on as the sun sets, golden light streaming through the glass windows. In less than a few minutes, the sky will be dark.

“Four hundred feet of fairy lights just came in. The university’s helping us hang that shit up because they don’t want to be responsible for our deaths. I have poster boards, spray paint, glitter, and other art supplies. Tablecloths, linen, sustainable utensils in the supply closet,” you narrate through your laundry list of things to do. “Blah, blah, blah. The dining hall will have all the food and the drinks for the bar supplied. Also setting up and cleaning up is their responsibility… I think we’re almost good to go.”

“Okay, how many workdays are you thinking? Also, it’s nearing finals week, so be mindful of that,” Rosé reminds you.

You tap your pen on your chin, thinking rather deeply about this. “We’ll work hard on Monday and Tuesday. Rest Wednesday. Finishing touches on Thursday and before the event on Friday. Our schedules all vary, so we’ll just visit the venue and pick up slack whenever we can.”

“Hey, the North Ballroom is close to all our lecture halls too. My classes are easy this semester, so I’ll be there pretty often,” Seungmin proclaims, and it sounds like music to your ears. Ah, as expected of Mr. President.

“Wait.” All your heads turn to Jeongin. “If this is the Yule Ball, are we allowed to go as students from different academies? Is that an option?”

Rosé laughs at the younger boy’s question. “I’m going as Beauxbatons. You’re welcome to join me,” she smiles and finishes up the last of her Hokkaido milk tea. Rosé is such a Beauxbaton, you can totally see it already.

“Um, no thank you,” he wrinkles his nose playfully. “I’m a Ravenclaw.” And this prompts the vice president to make a noise of disapproval. She knows that ninety percent of the attendees will be basic and go as Hogwarts students.

“Ooh, who are you texting?” Seungmin sings in your ear. “Is it a certain boy whose name sounds just like a celebrity’s name?”

“You mean Jeon Jungkook?” You gasp loudly, pretending that he actually found out about your “love affair” with the International Playboy Jeon Jungkook. “I mean, we’re long-distance right now… but yeah. It’s steamy.”

Seungmin looks wholly unimpressed.

“It’s Lisa,” you reply dryly. “She ditched today’s staff meeting for a date with a CS boy. She’s texting me her location in case she gets killed.” 

Seungmin doesn’t seem fazed by your morbid answer. It’s because first dates are always risky, especially if you’re not familiar with the other person. That’s why you never go on dates. No, not when you’re sort of in love with your equally dateless best friend. 

Speaking of said best friend, you hear the wind chimes at the front entrance, and Lee Minho (and Hyunjin) walks into the boba shop after dance practice just as he had promised. 

Breaths fraying. 

Sweaty. 

You hold your breath when he comes up behind you and lands a hand on the back of your chair, following up on the staff meeting.

“So, I got the Eventbrite app installed on my phone already. I’m ready to scan everyone at lightning speed because it’s all GA. None of that VIP checklist type of special treatment.” Hyunjin takes a grab at Jeongin’s winter melon milk tea and makes a face. “Um, this is not sweet at all? I’m ordering another,” he says on his way to the cashier.

“VIP checklist?” Minho quirks his head, not understanding the lingo.

“All the tickets are general admission this time, so there are no VIP guests. In the last event, we had college deans participating, so some students wanted to pay extra fees to sit in the front row for the panel speakers. It was also a lot more work to execute because VIP guests require wristbands,” you explain, not quite looking him in the eye. “The Yule Ball is just an excuse for students to dress up and have fun, so no VIP!”

Seungmin feels the need to scoot over and show him the number of emails he sent out, and Minho leans down dangerously close to you just to take a better look at the small ass font he has on his spreadsheet. His soft breaths tickle the side of your ear, and you can practically feel him breathing through his lungs. Kim Seungmin, you did this on purpose!

Rosé must have noticed your distressed expression because she kicks you underneath the table and waggles her eyebrows like a complete pest. “What,” you mouth, expression stern. You’re not in the mood to play footsies with her.

She does a silent chef’s kiss and points at Minho, who is very sweaty and very hot. 

This reminds you of the time where he randomly picked up an entire box of Sprinkles Cupcakes after a workout (yeah, must have been a tough workout) and asked if you wanted some. You said yes because, duh. It’s free, it’s cupcakes, and it’s Sprinkles Cupcakes—so he drives to your apartment complex and meets you in his car. The only thing you could think of that night was how much you loved banana nut cupcakes and how yummy he looked.

You shudder back to reality when he casually rests his hand on your shoulder while standing back up.

“So I think the meeting has adjourned?” Seungmin suggests, packing up his laptop that is running low on ten percent. “We’ll keep in contact over the weekend to work things out. But get some sleep before we start prepping next week, you’ll need it!”

“I’m riding home with Hyunjin, so I’ll wait for him.” Jeongin fumbles for his belongings and stuffs them in his backpack before giving the rest of the team a small wave. He runs up to Hyunjin, who is waiting impatiently for his order.

“I’m taking Rosé, so Minho and Y/N?”

Lips in a tight line, you can only nod in agreement. “Yeah, sounds good to me,” you manage to say, voice no louder than a squeak.

Rosé swings her purse over her shoulder and blows you a stupid kiss (which you proceed to crush with the palm of your hand, earning a silent gasp from her) before she follows Seungmin to his car. You begin to tidy up your belongings when Minho asks you about your dinner plans.

“What? You want frozen pizza again? Didn’t you have that yesterday?”

“I can’t think of anything else I want to eat!” Minho cries out, lips cracking into a smile because he knows that you’re so fucking done with him. He once had pork belly for five days straight when he sprained his ankle doing a backflip. What a loser. Could have asked you to meal prep for him or something. But he was too damn prideful after you specifically told him not to do acrobatics on a slippery dance floor.

“I’ll make you ram-don and fulfill your dreams of being my parasite,” you tease, nudging his arm. “Your treat though. I already paid for your pizza.”

Minho’s eyes light up like stars. “You’d make that for me?”

“Yeah,” you tell him. 

You’ll even get him the moon if he wants.

six.

You and Minho end up raiding the Asian supermarket. 

Ram-don only requires three ingredients, but when it comes to splurging on food, neither of you have power over cute packaging and timely BOGO deals. You, a business major, should know better than to succumb to the pressures of monopolistic competition in a capitalistic society. But instead, you toss the last three bags of seaweed chips into your cart, clearing the shelf and getting rid of the store’s inventory. Business is a cycle.

“You love me for my money,” Minho frowns as you’re skipping down the alcohol aisle. 

You reach up to grab two bottles of strawberry soju. “Of course. We’re friends with benefits,” you say mindlessly, and you feel dirty looks coming from the lady a few beer cartons away.

“Who would want to be friends with benefits with you? All you do is stay at home and eat,” he snaps back, stifling a laugh. 

“Um, that’s sort of the point of friends with benefits in this day and age. Do you know how rare sugar daddies are? What are the chances of me finding a hot, rich CEO at the prime age of twenty-five with a business empire at his feet? I’ll never be able to snatch reservations at a Gordon Ramsay restaurant and be featured on Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Even if you did. What are the chances that he’d pick you over a go-go dancer? What qualities can you offer to the market of potential sugar daddies?”

You hate the fact that Minho is now a declared marketing minor. “I can cook, on good days. I can hold great conversations. Yeah, communication is key in a business partnership,” you insist.

“Wow, what the heck would you need communication for? Are you going to make spreadsheets of the times that you’re going to meet?” Minho questions and decides that two bottles of soju are not enough. He adds a peach flavored one to the cart.

“Yeah! If he’s Jeon Jungkook and tragically busy! I need to make sure that my man has time for me!”

“He’d rather date Jimin than date you.”

You pout. You know he’s right. Even you’d rather date Park Jimin than date yourself.

“I thought you said you were broke,” you say when he adds one of those gigantic packs of rice crackers, the ones the size of a machine gun, to the cart. 

“Just got my paycheck,” he shrugs, “It’s not even for me. I don’t eat bland, tasteless shit. Chan wants it because his mom just sent him five jars of peanut butter, and he can’t get rid of it… do you want a jar? I can grab one for you.”

“I think I’m good,” you tell him, chuckling to pretend like you’re okay. Like the fact that he just got his paycheck and offered to buy groceries for his roommate isn’t the cutest, most wholesome shit ever. Like his sudden thoughtfulness doesn’t make your heart stop all at once. Like you’re not mentally combusting at the sight of his stupid attractive face debating on which cut of beef he wants for the ram-don.

Minho ends up picking ribeye (because it’s the cheapest), and soon enough, you’re leaving the supermarket with five bags of unnecessary junk. But what’s college if you haven’t fucked up a few times? If you haven’t drunk until your head is in the toilet. If you haven’t accidentally skipped a lecture (or more) because of a hangover. When would you ever be able to do all of these things if not now?

Like a gentleman, he pops open his trunk for you—when all the groceries are loaded, he starts the car.

You really like his car. 

It’s different from Chan’s car, which by the way is a poor excuse for a college student’s car. It’s too pristine, too clean to the point where you feel bad for sitting on the leather seats after a long day of classes and work. You feel like you’d dirty them, and Chan might end up resenting you for hurting his baby.

Minho’s car is familiar. It’s sleek and clean just like Chan’s but not excessively; there’s still leftover straws from his many boba runs and free napkins from Chipotle. If you look hard enough, there are a few cracks on the jade pendant that hangs from his front mirror. His mom says that it will keep him safe, and it’s cute how he keeps it there despite complaining to his mom every single time he goes over a speed bump. When you lean your head back on the passenger seat, there’s the Pusheen headrest you gifted him two years ago for Secret Santa. One look in the backseat and you can still make out the stain from when Changbin spilled a bunch of spicy rice cakes because he sneezed a little too hard (and forgot to ask for a lid). It took Minho a week to get most of the stain out, and to this day, he still doesn’t trust Seo Changbin with anything edible or spillable while being in his car.

“Wait, you still have this?” You hold up a post-it note that reads “buy yourself something nice ;)”. You wrote it the time you went to the ATM by campus to retrieve cash for his broke ass who decided that he wanted another tattoo on Friday the 13th. 

“Hmm?” Minho glances over at you as he’s reversing out of the parking lot. “Yeah, why? Do you want it back?” he jokes.

“No. I just thought you would have tossed it by now.”

You think that he’s too focused on driving because he doesn’t respond. Your phone’s Bluetooth automatically connects to his car, and you let your songs shuffle—“Riptide” by Trivecta begins to play.

Maybe it’s not his car that you like. Maybe it’s the memories made in his car. The kind of memories you’ll fondly look back at fifty years from now with a nostalgic smile on your face. With a series of “what if” questions swimming through your mind. With probably two cats by your side.

Actually, maybe it’s not even the memories.

Maybe it’s him that you like.

seven.

"Don’t you think that you’re missing something?”

“Like what?” Chan asks, looking up from his array of Tupperware. He’s meal prepping for the entirety of next week like the epitome of a gym rat.

You cross your legs, sitting on the counter. “So you’re just going to have chicken breast and string beans for the rest of the week? No carbs? Don’t y’all need carbs to function?” you ask, picking up a string bean with a pair of chopsticks from his hot pan. Could use more pepper.

He stares at his half-empty containers for a hot second. “Fuck. I need to cook rice.” Chan rummages through his cabinets for a bucket to rinse his rice in. “Don’t you have anything else better to do besides watch me cook?” he questions.

“I mean, I would make myself a banana smoothie. Too bad Changbin broke your blender,” you tell him casually. “How long does it take Minho to shower? At this rate, we might as well just UberEats something.”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you join him to kill time?” The corner of his lips raise as he’s washing his brown rice like a nuisance—you hope he forgets to press cook and leaves his grains of rice sitting at “warm”.

“Haha, very funny,” you respond sarcastically. It’s not as if Chan doesn’t know about your humongous crush on Minho anyway. “As if your tiny shower could fit two people.”

Chan takes the pair of chopsticks from your hand, preventing you from taking more of his string beans and chicken. “You should try it out and tell me,” he teases, sending a greasy smile your way, because he knows you’re thinking about it now. Chan’s proud of planting that seed in your brain.

You want to fucking uproot that seed and leave it out to die in the sun.

“I hate you.”

“Because your heart’s too busy loving Minho.” 

And you can’t even fight back because he’s right. Bang Chan’s always right about everything. Unfair.

Minho’s phone buzzes on the counter, and out of pure boredom and aggravation, you decide to check it because it’s probably an email from the university reminding everyone to pay tuition and burn more money–oh, it’s just Han Jisung.

(8:37 PM)

jisung bb: yo, hyunjin’s bday coming up

jisung bb: wtf do I get him?

(8:38 PM)

lino: you should get him the penis plush with a bowtie on it

lino: bc he has bde

jisung bb: LMAO BRO

jisung bb: AIGHT that’s sick 

jisung bb: what are you getting him then?

lino: the nerdy self-development book he’s been wanting

lino: oh, this is y/n btw

(8:39 PM)

jisung bb: um, am I interrupting something ???

lino: he’s showering so I’m just waiting for him to finish

jisung bb: join him and kill two birds with one stone ;)

lino: bitch you DO realize that he’ll see this chat right?

jisung bb: no, you would delete it

lino: TRU lol

(8:40 PM)

lino: shit, I think he just finished… imma go delete

jisung bb: TTYL, BE SAFE :)

lino: STFU 

“My phone’s filled with cat pics, if you’re wondering,” Minho says when he walks into the kitchen, a towel draped over his neck, droplets of water falling from his hair onto his white t-shirt. He looks so effortlessly radiant in this mess of a kitchen with only one light bulb that works. This should be illegal. He should be arrested. 

You’re just about finished deleting the messages when you answer, “Oh, I know. You only send me pictures of your cats and use them as really bad reaction memes. I was just stalling time to keep my mind off the fact that I’m starving and pissed at Chan.”

“What did Chan do to piss you off?” Minho chuckles, coming up beside you. He’s about eye-level, now that you’re sitting on the counter. When he laughs, his eyes crinkle into crescents—your heart goes haywire.

“His entire existence pisses me off,” you snarl, flashing the boy a glare.

“Did you break Y/N’s heart?”

Chan scoffs rather loudly, too loud for your liking. “Me? As if. Whoever has Y/N’s heart must be a total hunk,” he says, and you hope he stops talking right there.

“I thought you said you were going to cook me ram-don?” Minho asks with a jut of his lower lip. He plants his hands on either side of you and leans forward, trapping you against the counter. This happens and you get a splendid, 1080p vantage of his Face and long fucking eyelashes. As a result, you’re trying to keep a straight face as you control your heart rate. As a result, you are also trying to moderate the heat rising to your cheeks, like you’re working in the engine room of the Titanic and throwing ice cubes into the chambers to prevent steam (doesn’t work btw). And as a result, Chan is having the time of his life chopping up overcooked chicken breasts, pleasantly enjoying your misery.

“Can’t cook if you don’t move,” you mention, sounding less confident than you would have liked. He takes a step back, and you immediately hop off, making a grab for the spare chopping board and slab of ribeye steak. “Help boil water or something.”

Chan ends up slicing the meat because you don’t trust yourself with a knife after what Minho did.

eight.

Turns out Lisa’s date didn’t meet up to her expectations. 

The guy’s great, apparently. He planned the entire day: from sushi, to cat cafe, to movies, etc. The conversations were courteous, none of that “how much do you make?” or “do you want to come to my place after?”—it's safe to say that it was a pretty decent date.

“So what’s wrong?” you ask her over the phone. You’re lying facedown on Minho’s full-size bed, propping your chin up with the back of your palm.

“He’s too nice,” she sighs, the sound of the apartment door unlocking on the other end. “He responds to my text in seconds and seems really keen to set up another date. He even suggested rock climbing. I don’t rock climb!”

“Maybe you should give him a chance. He did put a lot of effort into this date,” you mumble. You see Minho shaking his head on the bed, drinking soju through one of Changbin’s metal straws. He’s watching Love is Blind on Netflix, but you have a feeling that he’s enjoying your phone conversation more.

Lisa gives an exasperated sigh this time. “I know… but you know my type. I just don’t want to lead him on. He’s a good guy… just not my guy.”

“Let him down easily, and thank him for the date! At least, he wasn’t the guy who made you pay for his lunch and asked you to book an Airbnb for him and his dogs.”

“Right? I just met you, and it’s not my fault that you forgot to pay rent. I’m still waiting for that Venmo.”

You giggle when you remember that incident—it was during Valentine’s Day when she called. You were sitting on your dining room table and watching something on Disney+ (your friends back home have come to a consolidated consensus that it’s a crucial asset to a college student’s survival kit). And when Lisa called, you almost spat out the entirety of your dinner on your laptop screen, right on top of your Mushu icon. “That was an eventful Valentine’s Day,” you snicker, rolling over onto your backside. You hear Minho take a sharp intake of breath when you almost knock over his bowl of barbeque chips.

“Fuck you, bro. I called you because I was scared for my life! I don’t want the police coming up to our apartment doorstep and asking you for a testimony because I’m dead and found in the bushes,” she exclaims on the phone. You wince when she raises her voice.

“No more Tinder, Bumble, Coffee Meets Bagel, East Meets East…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I deleted all of them already.”

Your eyes widen. “And?”

“And I’ll thank him for the date but won’t agree to a second one,” Lisa mumbles; she sounds like a child after being scolded by her parents for accidentally painting the apartment wall or something. 

“Good girl.”

“Where are you? Snapchat says that you’re not home. Are you dating someone behind my back?” She bombards you with a series of questions—you really need to turn off your Snapchat location. If she looks hard enough, she’ll see your Bitmoji chilling with Minho’s Bitmoji… wait, she’s friends with him too. Great, you’ll never hear the end of it now.

You sit up and clear your throat. “No. I’m with Minho. We’re watching Love is Blind on Netflix,” you tell her responsibly. Like you’re afraid to get caught. Though you shouldn’t be. It’s not like Minho’s your dirty little secret or anything.

“Hoho, love is indeed blind,” she snorts, “You’re not coming home tonight?” You can practically see her wiggling her perfectly arched brows in glee.

“Maybe… stop making it sound so bad!” You retort, bouncing on the bed for added emphasis. Minho looks as if he’s about to kill you because you almost knocked over his soju bottle. It’s his fault, only rookies drink alcohol in bed.

“I’m not! I think Woojin got off work. I’m going to ask him to buy me cheese corn dogs now. Bye!” And the phone conversation ends there because she hangs up for food.

Your best friend looks over at you, bored. “Did she break someone’s heart again?” Minho asks.

“Yeah. Poor kid.”

“Would you ever go on a dating app?”

You scoff in response, a dismissive wave of your hand. As if you could ever sell your information to the dark web and give creepy stalkers the opportunity to track you down via satellite signals. “No. I would prefer not to die. Isn’t it so much more wholesome to fall in love in person? People are so manipulative online these days. Online dating only works for a selected group of people. That’s why there’s such a bad reputation around it,” you say calmly, hand reaching for his bottle of peach soju.

Minho tilts his head and takes the soju bottle away; you narrow your eyes at him. He asks again, “Then why haven’t you fallen in love with anyone in person yet? You have a bunch of eligible bachelors surrounding you. Example one–Seo Changbin.”

That’s because I’m in love with you, stupid. But you don’t tell him that.

“Changbin’s too chonky for me,” you lie. Changbin’s fine and a great friend. Maximum boyfriend material. But he’s not Lee Minho. There’s a chance that you might fall for Changbin in an alternative universe where Minho doesn’t exist, but sadly, it’s not this universe.

“Han Jisung.”

“The same guy buying Hyunjin a penis plushie for his birthday? No, thank you,” you chuckle for good measure. You didn’t think Jisung would take it seriously... but the more you learn. “I’m okay with being single. Too busy with my studies to fall in love.”

There’s an unreadable expression on Minho’s face, one that seems almost lost. Like if you were to look into his eyes, you’d see a large expanse of dark matter. Just dust particles floating listlessly in nothingness.

“Plus, I’m too busy taking care of my parasite that is you.”

Minho cracks a close-lipped smile and rolls his eyes; you like it when he smiles. “Look who’s the parasite now,” he says, fixing his gaze on your reclined figure that is sipping soju through a fucking metal straw.

“I mean… I can sleep on the couch if you want. And big spoon Felix if Changbin brings him home tonight,” you offer, resting your chin on your hand. Changbin always brings Felix to his apartment (he practically lives here) because Felix makes it known to the world that he hates dorming.

“No. My bed is big enough for the two of us.”

Okay, this is normal.

Breathing is optional.

nine.

You’re in charge of the Ravenclaw banner with Jeongin, a fellow Ravenclaw, when Jisung marches in the North Ballroom and shouts, “Guess who bombed his ochem midterm!”

Nobody guesses. In fact, Rosé shakes her head and focuses even harder on calligraphy-ing numbers for the table placards. And Seungmin looks like he’s about to toss a sock at him—that would be bad. Not for Han Jisung but for the underpaid university worker hanging lights on top of the ladder that Seungmin is securing.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you chide as he saunters up beside you. “Though, Kim’s TA probably had the easiest time grading your exam.” You dip your paintbrush into a tub of dark blue paint, preparing to trace over the sketch of the Ravenclaw banner you referenced off Google Images.

Jisung takes off his backpack and hops onto the stage ledge, grabs a spare brush to begin tracing the raven in the center. “Nah, she was entertained. Look! I even played a game of Hangman for her,” he announces, flipping to page three just to show you a stick figure missing an eye.

“How thoughtful of you,” you say with the most sarcasm. “What were you trying to spell?”

“Here’s your chance to give the class a fat curve.”

He makes you speechless sometimes… but never in a good way. You quickly change the topic to prevent yourself from losing brain cells. “So why aren’t you with the other Gryffindors?”

Jisung looks over to the other side of the stage where Changbin is sprawled on top of a giant piece of poster paper and attempting to sketch a lion onto the canvas; he’s looking hard at his Samsung but not making much progress because Gryffindor’s have the most intricate design. Hyunjin is there too. But he’s being useless and looking at shades of red and yellow despite the fact that you’ve already picked up the tubs of paint from the craft store. “I think they have enough hands,” he mentions casually, earning a glare from Jeongin.

“Go,” the younger boy bosses.

Your friend points a brush at Jeongin, threatening him. “If Changbin kicks my ass for messing with his design, which you know for a fact that I will because he’s not very gifted at drawing, I am going to hurt you,” Jisung announces. He doesn’t sound very confident, however. He mumbles something about wishing he was a Slytherin before he drags himself towards the challenged artist.

“I think we’ll have all the banners finished by tonight.” You can say this confidently because Woojin and Felix are nearly done with Hufflepuff’s.

“Yeah. Centerpieces will be done by tomorrow, and if not, we’ll just pick up on Wednesday. Right on schedule,” Jeongin tells you, one hand steadily tracing the banner. You want your kids to be just like him when they grow up. If you ever were to have kids that is.

“I love you, did you know that?”

He smiles sheepishly. “Not as much as you love Minho,” he chimes in. Miraculously, it’s like everyone knows about your crush on Lee Minho but Lee Minho himself.

You press your lips together, crossing your arms. Minho’s so ugh. He’s not even painting the Slytherin banner right, but you know for a fact that they’ll be okay because Chan’s always out to save his ass. Minho’s just smiling and saying “oops” in a stupid cute voice when he intentionally paints green onto all of Chan’s fingers. Such a nuisance. Ugh.

“Y/N! You’re getting blue on the raven!” Jeongin accuses and stands up to make a big scene out of it. God, why did he have to take that drama course? Why is visual arts a GE requirement for a biology major like him?

“Calm down… I’ll just paint black over it,” you explain, hoping he’d shut up. Everyone (and Minho) is looking in your direction; you feel your cheeks grow warm.

“What a rookie move, Y/N!” Minho shouts from the Slytherin work area like an actual Slytherin. One more word and you’ll sock his face like what Hermione did with Draco. “You literally have one of the easiest banners!”

The truth is—you’re not a terrible artist—you’re just distracted. And you shouldn’t be because you see Minho’s face every single day. If anything, you should be accustomed to it by now. Inured. But why does your heart have to beat that much faster when he’s nearby? Not to mention that he’s already walking towards you to mock your mediocre craftsmanship.

“I’ll fix it, you fool. Focus on your own banner,” you respond harshly.

“We’re practically done,” he laughs, and Chan gives him a thumbs up. 

“Go help Jennie with the tables.”

Minho looks sort of hesitant. “Um… Jennie flipped me off earlier because she asked if her new cardigan looked good on her, and I said no.” This prompts you to look over at Jennie, who is securing tablecloths onto every single university-branded round table with Jisoo. He’s right—she could do so much better.

“Take five. When Seungmin’s done with the lights, you can help him decorate the bar,” you tell him, trying your very best to paint the banner and not fuck up (because Jeongin might start yodeling or something).

“Hey, I want to ask you someth–”

“Y/N! Emergency! We forgot to buy glitter!” Rosé calls from across the ballroom as she holds up two readily Mod Podge-d placards in the air.

 You shove your paintbrush into Minho’s hand. “Crap. Here, paint this. I need to run to the craft store,” you say, hopping off the ledge of the stage to save your vice president.

ten.

Thursday evening rolls along, and the university’s North Ballroom has officially transformed into the Yule Ball at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It’s nowhere near winter (or Christmas), but Jisung has somehow managed to convince his ochem professor to let him borrow three Christmas trees for the stage backdrop. You’re not sure what the trade-offs are for his final grade if he damages them, but he seems pretty okay with a solid C. This addition ties the entire venue together, in your opinion. String lights and LED icicles hanging from the ceiling, intricate centerpieces on every table, bar and DJ equipment all set up and ready to go. You think your gang of cranky, sleep-deprived friends did a pretty solid job on this venue.

“Alright, team. The tech people will set up the picture booth and dance floor tomorrow, so we’re done for the night,” Seungmin tells everyone. “Please go home and get some rest!”

Rosé adds before everyone starts to peel themselves off the unfinished dance floor. “And make sure to have a good night’s sleep so you’ll look hot at the ball tomorrow!” 

At this rate, everyone’s just exhausted and wants to sleep. The past few days consisted of ASB members running in and out of the ballroom, 3RACHA frantically hooking up all their equipment while trying to maneuver wires around ladders, and a lot of (alcohol-free) cocktail testing because who the heck knows what Gillywater tastes like. 

Jeongin leans his back again yours, and his hair tickles the crown of your head. “This dance floor will literally light up tomorrow. It’s going to be so cool,” you comment, patting your hand on the floor. Despite being beat after hours of running across the ballroom and tending to details, you think that it’s worth it. College is sometimes worth it.

“I mean, I guess,” Jeongin groans, attempting to scoot himself away from Changbin, who is trying to suffocate him in a hug. “Ew, gross. There’s glitter all over your hands!” And that’s the last time you see Jeongin (on Thursday) because he sprints back to his dorm, turning back to throw a peace sign back at Changbin.

“Please don’t try to hug me,” you say to him.

“Excuse me? I’m not trying to get my balls cut off by hitting on Minho’s girl.”

In less than a quick second, you punch his shoulder, earning a groan from him. “Don’t say that! He could have heard you,” you whisper threateningly. God, if he weren’t preoccupied with Woojin and Lisa nagging his ear off about some CS project, he could have overheard Seo Changbin’s loud ass voice.

“But it’s fucking true,” Changbin laughs in disbelief.

“No, it’s not!”

“Then why are you getting mad at me?”

“I’m not fucking mad at you!” You cry, standing up to pick up your backpack. “It’s just… don’t say shit when it’s not true. Don’t try to get my hopes up when I’m already confused.”

Changbin scoffs as if it’s a knee-jerk reaction, no sympathy whatsoever. Some friend you have. “I don’t really think that you’re confused,” he says.

“What?”

“I think you know exactly how you feel about Minho. But you’re just too scared and stubborn to confront him because you’re afraid of losing what you already have. So you’d rather live like this and micromanage yourself to prevent your feelings from showing,” he tells you, motioning his head towards Minho, who’s laughing along with your housemate. “I know you want validation. Maybe that’s what he needs too.”

“Can you stop doing that?” You ask bitterly. It feels as if he took your diary (imaginary, because you don’t have the time to write) and flipped to the page with all your qualms about Lee Minho. Narrates the list like he’s giving a product pitch for Apple. 

Changbin laughs aloud this time, his head thrown back dramatically. He tosses his car keys in Chan’s direction before he responds, “You mean being a good friend? Who genuinely cares about your love life? And taking time out of my busy day to talk to you?” 

“As if. You just don’t want Lee Minho to cut your balls off.” You turn to him as you glare into his deep brown eyes. Hostility aside, most of the gang has left, and it’s mainly just your housemates and Changbin’s.

“Because I need them?”

“Wow, that’s good to know.”

Lisa clicks her tongue in your direction and turns off the lights in the North Ballroom. “Alright, time to say bye to Bin. We’re gonna head back now,” she calls out, bumping fists with Chan and Minho on her way out. Jisoo’s probably napping in the car already; it’s going to be such a hassle to wake her up.

“I hope you become broke after renting your tuxedo,” you say in lieu of goodbye.

Changbin just pats your shoulder. “I hope you trip over your dress and fall on top of a certain dude whose name rhymes with Pee Winho.”

“Splendid,” you deadpan. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Chan smiles when he gives you a side hug. “Get some sleep and stop watching sad pet videos at night. It’s all over my Instagram feed.”

Chan’s the only nice one in your friend group. And you don’t mean “nice” in a bad way either; he’s anything but boring. He’s just a genuinely interesting person to be around, knows how to hold meaningful conversations, isn’t afraid to stick up for his friends. He’s great—it’d be so nice if you could fall for him again.

“I’ll try, buddy. Get those eyebags taken care of,” you tease, nudging his side.

Minho is right next to him, standing there with an oversized university hoodie that covers his mid-thigh and his Adidas joggers that he solemnly swears by. He carries his backpack on one shoulder, defeated and tired, like any junior year college student who can’t remember his carefree high school days and can’t look forward to graduating because he still has another year to worry about. 

He is beautiful.

eleven.

“Damn! Who is she?” You holler from your bed when Jisoo struts out of the walk-in closet in a full-length, pastel yellow gown trimmed with lace and florals. She gives it a twirl and fluffs up layers of tulle. She looks like Belle. Stunning.

“Wait, why are you sitting down?” Jisoo scolds you immediately. “You’re going to wrinkle the tulle, you dumbass.”

You stand up, narrowing your eyes at her and straightening your gown. “Wow, I compliment my roommate for being hot stuff, and this is how I’m being treated in return?” you inquire, feigning a hurt expression.

“Your roommate also spent an hour last night steaming your dress and avoiding all the polyester stars because they will burn!” Jisoo reminds you, referring to the embroidered stars on top of your sheer black tulle. 

For a person who’s not very dressy, you sure are picky about this particular dress. Your housemates have all purchased their dresses weeks prior to the ball, and yours barely arrived at your doorstep two days ago. But you tell yourself that the stress was worth it. By no means are you a fashion major, but it makes it seem like you can fucking dress yourself. It’s this gown with two layers: the top is sheer tulle with capped sleeves and patterned with gold stars and moons, and the bottom is a strapless, midnight blue dress made with silk; the waist is cinched with a gold ribbon. How very Ravenclaw of you.

Fondness bleeds into your expression. “I would die for you, Jisoo. I really would,” you tell her seriously before cracking a shit-eating grin.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it for Minho.”

“I would not die for him!” You declare with the passion of Kim Woojin, first in line at the new fried chicken place on campus. “I would die with him, bro.”

“Whipped,” she says, fixing up her gloss in the mirror. “Are you ready to go? Minho says he’s picking us up at five.”

You tilt your head, furrowing your brows. “Minho? I thought Woojin was picking us up.”

“I mean, he was supposed to be our ride. But Seungmin needed him to run some errands because we ran out of soda. So he’s most likely at the market right now cruising the soft drink aisle in a pricey tux,” Jisoo casually mentions. Like it’s no Big Deal. Like that fact that Lee Minho is driving you to the ball is no biggie. 

Truth is, you’re not ready to see him. And you are most definitely not ready for him to see you.

“Um… can Lisa drive me instead?” you ask nervously, chewing your bottom lip. This isn’t even prom, you shouldn’t be this nervous. You also shouldn’t be picking at your dress because the metallic thread is delicate and expensive. 

“No, she left with Woojin already. He’s her date, remember? He asked her on Wednesday.”

“What? Why is Woojin her date?”

Jisoo widens her doe-like eyes and looks at you concerningly. “Y/N, it’s the Yule Ball. It’s a ball! And you didn’t think to ask anyone to be your date? You’re the fucking secretary! Who are you going to dance with during the staff dance?”

You’re panicking at this rate. Not because you don’t have a date but because you’ve never seen Jisoo lash out like this until today. You must be an idiot. “I forgot! I was too focused on getting stuff together and actually planning the ball! Um… I’ll ask Seungmin? He’s the president, he won’t say no to me,” you blurt, distressed.

“Hello? President and Vice President are the first dance? Pick someone else.”

You search through a mental list of the eligible bachelors that you know. Chan is too busy DJ-ing (sorry ladies and gentlemen). Changbin has managed to find a date who can deal with his whiny ass. Woojin, Seungmin, Hyunjin, and Jeongin also have dates. Jisung and Felix like to keep their options open like the tryhard playboys they are. 

There’s no hope now.

“I’ll just pretend to use the restroom or something. University food usually gives you food poisoning,” you decide, dodging her stare.

“Are you sure that everyone you know has a date? Like everyone you know.”

“Mhmm,” you drawl, furrowing your brows. “Do you want to dance with me? You don’t have a date.”

Jisoo deadpans. “I have a boyfriend, Y/N. He doesn’t need to ask me to be his date.”

“Can he not share?”

“You’re being ridiculous right now,” she informs you as she packs her belongings into a small clutch—you stand and watch her.

Just because you’re dateless, just because your options ultimately boil down to Minho, just because you’re desperate and he’s your best friend, doesn’t mean that you’ll ask him to be your date. It’s too risky. What if he already has a date? What if he has someone he wants to ask to the dance? You have no right to depend on him to be your date. It’s not like that. It’s not like with Jisoo and her boyfriend where it's an unspoken rule. With you and Minho, there are no rules. No rules that are meant to be broken.

“I’m not,” you state. “I’m going to pay Jisung five bucks to dance with me.”

“And that’s not ridiculous?”

“At least I’m not the one, posting a selfie of myself on Twitter, and asking Jeon Jungkook to fly his ass over here to ask me to the Yule Ball!”

Jisoo crinkles her nose, she looks disgusted. “Oh my god. She really did that?”

“Yup. Tagged the band’s Twitter handle and all.”

“Aren’t you jealous?”

Of course not. Jeon Jungkook would never ask a fan to the Yule Ball. Or any ball. It’s unrealistic. You’ve never been jealous because of him. You don’t know him as a person nor do you care for him deeply like the way you care about Jisoo or your other friends. 

The only time you’ve been jealous was during your sophomore year. Minho offered to study with you at the library (you ordered Chinese takeout and all) but canceled last minute because something “urgent” came up with his dance partner, a pretty senior girl. That night was lonely; you ate all that orange chicken by yourself on the fifth floor. You didn’t respond to Minho’s texts for an entire day until Chan mentioned that his dance partner had sprained her ankle during rehearsal and needed a ride to the hospital. And he was also kind enough to mention that she’s in a very committed relationship with the captain of the football team. You ended up doing the Walk of Shame to Minho’s shared apartment with a burrito bowl and ice cream—you never want to experience jealousy again.

Ugh. But what if Minho already has a date? You don’t want him to hold her hand and put an arm around her waist? Jealousy stinks.

“Very,” you say.

twelve.

“Hello ladies,” Minho greets, rolling down the windows as soon as you exit the apartment complex. He wiggles his dark brows. “My name is Lee Minho, not the actor, and I am at your service.”

“You’re not even going to open the door for us?” Jisoo snorts and gets into the backseat, leaving the passenger seat open for yours truly.

“It’s because we’re not paying him,” you tell your roommate. “And we shouldn’t even need to. He eats and sleeps at our apartment for free half the time.” 

Minho fixes his collar in the rearview mirror. As if it were crooked to begin with. “I pay you with my company and clean your fridge for free. That yogurt was going to expire, Jisoo. Aren’t you glad I finished it for you?” He questions her, referring to the time where Jisoo’s dad bought her a pack of vanilla-flavored Yoplait, and she got so sick of it to the point where she was offering it to students during ASB tabling.

“So very thoughtful of you,” she chides.

You have to force yourself to enter the car (and stop drooling). You’re not used to seeing Minho without some baggy sweater over his Adidas sweatpants and his worn-out pair of indoor slides that he likes to wear everywhere. Instead, he’s wearing a black dress shirt with a forest green tie, silver rings lining his fingers and hair tousled in that wet, effortlessly-styled kind of way. His blazer is on the armrest, and it’s black with matching forest green lapels; how very Slytherin of him. He looks very couture vogue, like that suit was tailored to fit every inch of his body. He looks rich, expensive. He looks like the fucking love of your life.

“You clean up nicely,” you say to him. Greatest understatement of the year.

“Of course. I can’t have my best friend outshine me during the Yule Ball,” he explains, giving you a lopsided smile. “You look nice tonight–”

“Save the compliments for later! Seungmin’s spamming the group chat because the turnout rate is insane. There’s a line that wraps around the fountain and down the stairs!” Jisoo urges Minho to floor it, which you’re a little grateful for. 

At least this way, Minho doesn’t have to see you mentally combust. 

His Spotify playlist goes on shuffle— “These Nights” by 88rising begins to play.

thirteen.

The North Ballroom looks so magical that it almost seems surreal. Like you’re half-expecting to see Sir Nicholas’ ghost float by and show you his decapitated head. Seems like the university knew that this was going to be the Event of the Year because they even provided a complimentary chocolate fountain for the guests to enjoy— this is what your tuition goes towards. Plus, you’re very grateful that most of the attendees actually made an effort to dress up extravagantly, dresses and suits and all. They all look like Triwizard champions.

“I’m glad I sold my soul to make this event come to life. Especially during my last year,” Jennie says, finally taking a seat beside you and slipping her heels off. “Best idea ASB ever came up with.”

“I know! Aren’t you sad to leave college?”

“If you put it like that, then yes?” Then, she runs her hand through her curls and makes an unpleasant face as if to say “then again”. “But you know how I’m the TA for the class on the internet industry, right? For the video projects, one group’s film had a bong in the corner of the room. Like, what am I supposed to do with that information?”

College is the best and worst four years of your life, they say. “Though you are severely underpaid, you should grade on the contents of the video and not let extraneous factors affect you.” You’re never going to be a TA; you might cry if anyone decides to roast you on Piazza, even if the kid were a freshman. Big stress.

“Ugh. You sound just like Professor Bae. I’m getting food. Any recommendations?” she asks. Jennie’s been working check-in with Hyunjin ever since the event started two hours ago. You’re not sure if the light snacks will fill her.

“Everything is… dining hall food but on silver platters. I can ask Rosé to order something more substantial. That’s what club funds are for, and we really racked up this year.”

Jennie shakes her head, chuckling. “Rosé is too busy running her ass around and making sure everyone is recycling. I’ll just go stuff myself with chocolate before the staff dance.”

“Don’t get chocolate on your dress though!” You shout through the music, and she’s already halfway to the buffet table, tiptoeing barefoot across the carpet with a lump of dark green fabric in one hand. Jennie gives you a thumbs up.

Hyunjin appears beside you with a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries and s’mores. “Want some?” he asks over a mouthful of fruit and chocolate, no manners whatsoever.

You grab a skewer and begin to eat obligingly. It’s not every day that Hwang Hyunjin brings you food. “Check-in was that bad, huh,” you say, eyeing his plate filled with desserts. He usually complains too much about getting bloated to reward himself like this.

“Sho bad,” he emphasizes while chewing, eyes rolled back as he heaves a sigh. Hyunjin picks up Jennie’s heels and sets it to the side, sitting down on the staff table. “Students and faculty get in for free, but outside guests need to pay. You think I don’t recognize a fake ID? Do they think I was born yesterday or something?”

“Fake student ID? I’m dead,” you snicker. “This isn’t even a nightclub… this boosts my ego as secretary so much. Don’t tell Seungmin. He might just faint.”

“Since you’re secretary, why are you sitting here like a loner and not out there doing something?” Hyunjin says it like it’s a bad thing. It’s not your fault you can’t DJ like Chan, bartend like Woojin, or take pictures as well as Seungmin. Plus, you’re still stressing over not having a date for the first dance. “And why do you look so bothered?” he adds, dunking his marshmallow in more chocolate.

You frown particularly at the way he worded that. “I fucked up and forgot to ask someone to the first dance. And none of you even bothered to remind me? Or even ask me? Didn’t you ask Jennie, like, yesterday night?”

“Hey! Half of us would have probably asked you… but like… you’re kind of off-limits.”

“What? What do you mean ‘I’m off-limits’?” you ask, scandalized; your heart pounces a little. 

Hyunjin’s first order of business is to set his food down and clasp his hands together like he’s a business professional and about to give you a daily report on the stock market. Not a pleasant way to start the morning, by the way. “It’s an unsaid agreement. Minho is legally your single, bachelor best friend. Therefore, he’s obligated to ask you. I don’t want to mess with that agreement and have to deal with the consequences of my head getting bitten off,” he tells you honestly. 

You would rather listen to him give you a report on the crashing stock market. Because your heart’s the one crashing now. Because, fuck the legal agreement, Minho hasn’t even asked you to the first dance! “Hyunjin! He hasn’t even asked me! He probably asked someone else, like that girl he’s talking to right now,” you hiss, pointing across the room to where the photo booth is.

“That’s your marketing professor, Y/N.”

“Oh, that actually explains a lot. McGonagall's costume and all.” 

Hyunjin crosses his arms proudly. “See. I know Minho, he doesn’t have an interest in other people. He’s practically stalling just for you to ask him because Slytherins are cowards. Who the heck talks to their professor during an event?”

“Lee Minho does. Product positioning is his kink.”

“I have no interest in what his kinks are, unlike you! Shut up and go ask him already! The dance is about to happen,” Hyunjin says, standing up to scan the ballroom for his date. “Where’s Jennie? She needs shoes to dance.”

“You’re so unromantic,” you scoff. Of course, dancers. “She’s stuffing her face at the chocolate bar. If you drag her away right now, she might hurt you.”

Hyunjin grabs her heels and takes the chance; he’d rather get a fistful of marshmallows thrown to his face than miss the first dance. You, on the other hand, would rather miss the first dance.

The lights begin to dim.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s give a special thanks to the ASB Student Council for making this magical night happen! Grab your partners to the middle of the dance floor and pull them close for this song, you know who you are!” Chan announces from the stage. 

You feel called out, like he’s directly staring at you and telling you to step up your game.

Taking a deep breath, you stand up and grip the sides of your dress, half-walking and half-searching the dark ballroom for your best friend before Chan starts the song. You swear Minho was just there a few minutes ago–

“–Hi, Y/N. Jisoo told me you didn’t have a date,” Jungwoo says, interrupting your train of thought. You remember that he’s from your film class; you sort of don’t recognize him without his satchel and hipster, Urban Outfitters-esque outfits. Jungwoo looks even better tonight; very Hufflepuff of him to wear a mustard yellow scarf with a suit. “Um, so I was wondering if you’d like to dance with me?”

You gape, eyes wide open. You don’t know how to respond… but the dance is going to start any second now. “I, um, I alread–”

“–Hey! There you are!” Minho greets and wraps an arm around your waist. “Sorry, Y/N. There was a line in the men’s restroom because one stall didn’t work properly. The janitors don’t get paid enough, do they?”

“Oh! I didn’t realize Minho had asked you already!” Jungwoo exclaims, chuckling at his own mistake. 

Yeah, you didn’t realize either. 

fourteen. The acoustic version of “First Time” by Seven Lions and SLANDER begins to play. It’s a terribly soft song—you hate Chan for playing it.

You don’t even have a second to apologize to Jungwoo and remind him about the film discussion meeting next Thursday before Minho is grabbing your hand with his own and pulling you close to him. He holds one of your hands out and places his other on your waist, resting it comfortably on your dress. As naturally as you can, you rest your hand on his shoulder.

“Men’s restroom? Bullshit,” you whisper playfully to get rid of the nerves. “I saw you talking to Park beforehand. Were you kissing up to her?”

“You already know,” Minho says, swaying you against the soft piano acoustics. Everything’s perfect. How the light shining on the hanging icicles make Minho look like he’s glistening, how he’s holding you close like you’re all he has, how his palm is warm against the small of your back. It must be because he’s a dancer—it feels just right. 

So don't stop now

I'm falling for you, I can't lie

I wanted you to stay…

“I thought you were going to ask someone else to the dance,” you tell him, eyes cast down at your heels. 

“Well, I didn’t.”

His words tug at your heartstrings, and when he pulls you closer at the bridge of the song, everyone on the dance floor disappears until it’s only you and him. You can’t seem to focus on anything but him. Everything is so potently him — you can even smell his Dior cologne he tried way too hard to buy during Black Friday (not that you’re complaining). And his eyes? Cosmic. If you looked close enough, you think you can see all the galaxies in his starry eyes. 

Oh, feels like we're falling for the first time

Oh, this is exactly what it feels like

You shift nervously against him; Minho’s face is dangerously close to yours. “You know I wouldn’t have said yes, right? I was looking for you,” you confess. “It just didn’t feel right to dance with anyone but you.” 

“Sure, liar. You were going to pay Han,” he responds with a straight face despite the amusing glint in his eye.

“He was my safety backup… because I was scared to ask you,” you confess, “You know I wouldn’t have paid him! I love money too much.”

“I guess.”

I, I knew that you were worth it

I, don't know if I deserve this

You, have given me a purpose

You, yeah you were always worth it

Minho leans a little closer, locking eyes with you. “Why were you scared?”

“Because it’s not like Jisoo and her boyfriend,” you say, and he cocks his head in confusion. “Just because you’re my best friend, doesn’t mean that you have to ask me to the dance. There’s no legal or ethical agreement binding you to me. You could have asked someone else… because you have no obligation towards me. So yeah, I didn’t want to ask you and crush your dreams of asking someone else. Because I know you’ll say yes to me. Because you’re my best friend.”

Your heart becomes all erratic at the confession. Sure, it’s not even a full-fledged, flower-bearing, tear-jerking confession, but it’s enough to strangle the life out of you. He makes you feel like the female character of a trashy, high school teenage romance novel published in sans serif font (which lacks even more qualification), and you hate it, you really do. But if it’s with Minho, then being irrational and dramatic is fine.

“Is that it?”

“Yes? That’s why I was scared.”

He moves both of your hands to his shoulder and wraps his arms around your torso, clasping his hands on the back of your waist. The sound of your thumping heart drowns the chorus. “No. I meant, am I only just your best friend?” he clarifies.

“W-What else would you be?” you stutter, puzzled at his response.

“Does this mean nothing to you?”

“Minho, what–”

Wordlessly, Minho leans down and presses his lips against your parted ones—you gasp into the kiss. The feeling of his mouth on top of yours sends your head and your heart pounding, hands clenching the fabric of his tuxedo. You seize up at the kiss at first, almost stiff, before you cave into him and draw him closer with a hand on the nape of his neck. You can feel his lips captivating yours, feel his breath mixing in with your own, feel his heartbeat racing against your palm. Minho tilts his head and kisses you fervently, swallowing each and every one of your qualms away, like he’s been waiting to do that all night. He holds you close like you’re his. And you hold him close like he’s yours.

Feels like we're falling for the first time

The first time...

fifteen.

If there’s one thing you are especially horrible at, it would be dealing with your feelings, namely your feeling towards Lee Minho. Because you can’t seem to face him or give him a proper response after the kiss.

“Minho!”

“Wha-where?” You blurt, snapping out of your trance and looking around the room frantically only to realize that there’s no one in the coffee shop but a few office workers. No one’s ever awake this early on a Saturday. Not even you. But you haven’t slept a wink since last night.

“In your dreams, dumbass,” Woojin snorts, rolling his eyes. “I’ve called your name three times already. You’re so fucking whipped for him.”

If it weren’t for the fact that he bought you this very Vietnamese coffee that you are drinking right now, you’d tell him off. Instead, you resort to burying your face in your palms, a deep sigh emitting from your lips. “I haven’t slept since last night, Woojin,” you tell him, “I’m just… I don’t know what to do.”

“Do you know how much I want to sleep?”

“It’s not my fault that you’re taking the opening shift.” If anything, he should be thanking you for spending time with him during his fifteen-minute break.

“You want to date Minho,” Woojin states matter-of-factly.

You feel uncomfortable at the mention of Minho’s name. At the way Woojin reads you like you’re an open book. Like you’re transparent and made of glass and he can see into your heart and the depths of your soul. Like he knows how stupidly feeble your heart is and how your best friend means everything to you, more than anything this fucked up world has to offer. Not to be dramatic, but yeah, that’s Kim Woojin.

“So? But to risk everything? You know nothing will ever be the same if we break up, right?” you say back, feeling your voice crack at the thought of losing Minho entirely. 

“And you think ignoring him after the kiss isn’t a stab to the heart?” Woojin acts as if you said “I don’t” and left him at the altar. “How would you even know if you didn’t try? How much longer are you going to tiptoe around him and act as if you don’t see him as anything more than a friend? It’s 2020, Y/N. Maybe it’s time to stop neglecting your feelings,” he finishes.

You tense up instantly and a deafening silence descends.

It’s not as if you and Minho had been best friends since the womb; frankly, you lived a solid eighteen years of your life prior to knowing him. You got into college with the mindset that it would be the best and worst four years of your life, and eighteen-year-old Y/N was right. It’s a fucking shitfest of exams and debt, but free alcohol and good company make up for it.

You met Minho on the first day of orientation when you asked him where the check-in was. He took an immediate interest in your fat cat plush after you’ve expressed that you couldn’t sleep without it, even if orientation was just one night away from home. Minho looks kind of different from before, better if you had to choose. When you first met him, he looked lost, hands stuffed into his gray hoodie as he dragged himself along with a massive Nike duffel bag. Three years later, you don’t recognize that kid anymore. Minho grew into his features as he started making use of the “free” gym that the campus demands you to pay a recreational fee for, he no longer gives two fucks about people who waste his time, and he radiates confidence in himself and his endeavors.

The best part was, you got to see that transformation.

Since orientation, he has planted himself in your life (like a true parasite), woven himself deep into the crevices of your heart and bones. It’s seamless, it’s effortless. It’s as if your lives were meant to collide and intermingle like all the stars have miraculously aligned for you to find him on this lonely college campus where people barely converse with one another. Minho has become a part of you unknowingly, and you wouldn’t know what to do if one day, you wake up, and he’s gone. Truly, it would be a Black Mirror type of universe if he disappears; you’ll be on your phone, wondering how life would be like in a world where he isn’t a clever simulation of your brain.

The human brain is capable of many things: Einstein and the Theory of Relativity, Newton and the Three Laws of Motion, and whoever invented french fries in Belgium… geniuses. But even if you used up your last standing brain cell to simulate Minho’s smile—his lips that have a crooked curve and his eyes that light up softly like waltzing stars—it wouldn’t work. Nothing is as devastatingly beautiful as the actual thing.

Your heart is so screaming loudly for him, but what’s holding you back?

“You know, you can’t give everything an outcome before it even starts,” Woojin tells you, “If that were the case, I would have dropped out of college.”

Woojin’s right, as he usually is. 

He was actually on the fence of dropping out of university to enroll in a community college and pursue a minimum wage job to pay back his student debt. However, due to several dreadful days of locking himself in his room and drowning his sorrows in Hot Pockets, he decided to stay and give college a second chance. Now, Woojin is one of the selected few to participate in a paid music production internship all the way in Hollywood. What a star!

“But you didn’t. You’re basically ballin’,” you smile, feeling like the bits and pieces of your heart and coming together. 

Your friend laughs bitterly, throwing his hands in the air. “I work two jobs, Y/N.”

“If I bought an expensive car, you best bet I would become a stripper.”

Woojin scowls (because he’s not a stripper but a barista), and his coworker tells him that his break is over. “So, if I want something, like a car, I’ll work hard until I can get it. Relationships aren’t all that different,” he replies. “You already have his heart, just make it last.”

That’s a good piece of advice. 

Minho wasn’t your first (you don’t remember his name), but you want to love him like he’s your last. He’s worth it, you decide, and life’s too short to miss opportunities. You want him to crawl up to your apartment past midnight demanding square donuts. You want him to confide in you and trust that you’ll be there for him even if you’re cramming for a final and running on five Monster drinks. You want him to hug you so tightly until there’s a trail of cat fur on your leggings. You want to make him smile because he only deserves happiness and nothing short of it.

“Okay, I’ll pay Lee Minho to become my stripper,” you declare with the willpower of a soldier fighting for independence.

Woojin raises his eyebrows at your confession. “He might willingly do it for free. If he’s in the mood for it.” 

“I love free,” you say wistfully, earning a flick on the forehead from your barista friend.

sixteen.

You know you’re nervous when you’re pacing like a crackhead at the front gate of Minho’s apartment complex at 10 AM in the goddamn morning. The neighbors walking their dogs must think that you’re crazy—well, maybe you are kind of crazy for this guy.

Minho’s apartment is so stinking old that it still has an intercom system; you feel like you’re paying your grandparents a visit. With shaky hands, you punch in the numbers 3-2-5 and an excruciating noise follows. Seconds later, there’s a groggy “what” on the other end of the line. It sounds like a hungover Changbin.

“Hey, dude. Can you get Minho to come down? I need to give him something–”

“Bitch, get up! Y/N says she needs to give you something! Maybe some cake or her virginity!” Changbin bellows on the other end. The line falls flat and so does your heart rate.

You are speechless. Flabbergasted. Appalled. You are this close to sprinting home. 

Cake? That’s okay. Cake is yummy and can be bought. Virginity? Tempting… but that’s later on in the story... if everything works out. You really should have known better than to trust boys. There’s no telling what a smelly, hungover Seo Changbin can say or do. Either way, you’re ruined. Minho will see you as a creep and regret kissing you and never set foot in your apartment again… you want to turn back time and redo this.

You’re about to beat yourself (and Changbin) up and consider banging your head against the brick wall to end your misery when Lee Minho steps out of his apartment, walking down the stairs with a bedhead and slippers. Even in a big hoodie and fuzzy pajama pants, he is perfect.

Your heart gnaws at the sight of him, and it hurts more when you see how sleepless he’s been. How his eyebags are almost as prominent as Chan’s. There’s a fading imprint on his face; you think he’s been tossing and turning all night and fell asleep on his headphones. 

“Hey,” you breathe out, taking small steps towards him when he opens the massive gate, iron rails scraping against each other. 

Minho stops walking and stuffs his hands in his pocket, stares at you with forlorn eyes. He watches you stop when you’re standing right in front of him. “What?” he asks coldly with an indifferent expression. If he notices the nervous flicker in your eyes, he doesn’t comment on it and you’re grateful for that.

“I’m… uh, I don’t have cake,” you mention, voice quivering. There’s an apology lingering at the tip of your tongue, but the embarrassment and impending fear run rampant in your mind. Catches the breath in your throat. Locks your jaw. 

“Okay,” he says, and silence comes crashing in. You feel like you’re sitting in the dilapidated ruins of a city, post-earthquake, and waiting in agony for the aftershock. It’s so deadly silent that you can’t focus on your thoughts through the thundering of your heart.

Minho looks tired. His eyes are more glossy than usual, probably from yawning due to lack of sleep. His jaw is defensively tight and that doesn’t sit well with you, because you don’t remember the last time he’s been ticked off like this. He looks regretful. For a moment, you feel a little pathetic for approaching him.

“That’s not what I came here to say,” you mumble quietly, “I’m… um…”

Without warning, you go on your toes and reach for his lips, hands resting softly on the sides of his face. At the kiss, you feel Minho’s body stiffen in surprise. To your relief, he then softens and surrenders to your touch. A weight lifts off your chest.

You are breathless when you pull back, dizzy.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you yesterday,” you tell him, and you can tell that he’s listening because he’s looking at you ardently. “I just needed some time to gather my thoughts. That kiss meant everything to me. Because you sort of mean everything to me.”

“Since when?” Minho tilts his head, lips arching—he’s testing you. 

You think hard about this. “Since freshman year? When I discovered a corpse in my dorm and had to evacuate for a day until my roommates came back from spring break,” you reply thoughtfully, searching his gaze with keen eyes.

Minho’s hands find your face, and he cradles your cheeks before squishing them together. “It was a dead cockroach,” he corrects.

“Yeah. A big corpse,” you feel the need to inform. “Are you pissed off at me?”

Minho gives you a little smile, that signature raise of his lips, before leaning down and closing his eyes until they disappear in the shadows of his full lashes; you guess that’s his way of saying it’s okay. Minho holds you close with fingers entangled in your hair, controlling the kiss, his other hand gravitating towards the tapers of your waist. He kisses you because he can, and it makes you feel all weak in the knees as he tries to steal the breath from your lungs. There’s something about kissing Minho, the familiarity of having his chest pressed against yours and his arms wrapped around you that feels normal and right. Like that one term you learned in lecture: infrastructure. Like wifi and coffee. Something that is so prevalent and taken for granted that you don’t realize it until it breaks down—then your life is in shambles.

If there’s one thing you know (and will finally admit to), it’s that you have always wanted to kiss Lee Minho. From that very day since the cockroach passed away in your dormitory and you slept on his Twin XL top bunk. And if there’s one thing you wished you knew earlier, it’s that the same boy will always kiss you back.

Woojin is right, you are so whipped for him. And he might be too. He just hides it better like the true Scorpio he is.

He presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth before trailing his lips to the shell of your ear and whispers, “What did you want to give me again?”

“Cake?” you suggest, feeling goosebumps forming on your skin.

“The other one.”

“Only if you pay me.”

Minho brushes it off with a chuckle; you think your heart just did a massive cartwheel at the sound of his laugh. “Cash or card,” he replies, tucking your hair behind your ear, his fingertips tickling your skin.

Without hesitation, you tell him, “Cash.”

“Oh my God. You’re dirty.”

Only then, he seems to notice the shopping bag you’ve been holding onto since the crack of dawn. Minho gasps out loud dramatically. “You bought me two boxes of Thin Mints? That’s ten dollars. It could buy you two months worth of eggs!”

“I hate how I throw away money for you,” you mutter under your breath. “So annoying.”

“Five bucks if you give me another kiss.”

You jump on that offer.

When Minho smiles into the kiss and the sunlight catches the flecks of gold in his brilliant brown eyes, you know that no amount of money in the world could buy the time you have with him. Life is short. Politics is a messy hellhole. The world might end because of global warming and sea-level rising. You are just a negligible being floating in the expanse of the ever so powerful cosmos with no legacy. But with Minho, standing right beside you, right in this very moment, you feel invincible because he loves you wholly and fiercely and loudly. You love how his heart loves you more than there are stars in the galaxies and will love you until the final demise of the universe. Until the waves come crashing into skyscrapers and fire sweeps the plains.

Even if the sky falls and the earth crumbles, you think you will be okay if Minho is by your side.

ps: if you’ve made it to the end, thank you so much for reading & don’t forget to like + reblog :D this fic is lazily proofread, so excuse any mistakes; happy 2020 & stay safe + healthy !!! see you in the next fic ^.^

[alecxaheart]

Sunshower | Lee Felix Oneshot

✎ Genre : Friends to Lovers AU, Idol AU, Fluff, Angst

✎ Pairings : Lee Felix X Reader

✎ Word Count : 2.5k words

✎ Synopsis : We all know that sunshines together with the rainfall makes a rainbow. And that is exactly like how you fell for the freckled sunshine.

✎ Warnings : Explicit Language

✎. . . Sudden change of plans for the title. :P Enjoy!

In an early afternoon, Felix had to stop by for lunch at this wonderful bakery near the Hangang Park. Where they serve many delicacies such as bars, breads, desserts, cookies, muffins, and more. His personal favorite was their fudgy brownie bites, so favored that he's inspired to make one of his own.

As soon as he opened the door to the bakery, he felt the stress he had from practice a while ago were completely relieved. The bakery gave off a warm welcome when he stepped in. Contrasting to the cold breeze of autumn outside. The aroma of newly baked goods lingered around the room that it felt like Felix's being lured immediately to the cashier. It almost smelled like heaven, thought of Felix.

The moment that he got his desired lunch in his hands, he took a seat near the window. He savored each bite of the pastry, eyes rolling to the back of his head at it's deliciousness. Although a ring from his phone interrupted him from his feast.

" Oi Felix, " Chan greeted as soon as he answered his call. Felix first dabbed his mouth with the provided tissue before replying to Chan, " What's up? ".

While he's into the conversation with his friend, something – or rather someone on the streets captured his eyes. You were aimlessly running after a piece of paper caught in the wind. The breeze carrying locks of your silk hair. Your eyes reflecting the sun and eyebrows knitted as you continue to struggle. When the time that you've had it in your hold came, you accidentally slipped on the autumn leaves. Causing you to painfully land on your butt. A groan fell out of your lips as you rubbed your butt to ease the pain. All of the commotion that Felix saw from you made him break out a giggle, which left his friend confused on the other line.

" Ah yeah, yeah. Let's defo have a barbie this arvo. "

Felix thought that you were adorable.

" (Y/N)? " Called out by the person on the other line as soon as you picked up the call. Your phone was pressed against your right ear while you continued searching for the remote underneath the pillows. It surely has been a while since the last time you interacted with your boyfriend, Park Jongsuk, and God knows how much you missed him. Just hearing his soothing voice at this moment sent butterflies into your stomach. His voice is enough for you to make your day better. " Yes, love? " You asked, smiling to yourself. Also noticing how his tone sounded more requesting. As much as you wanted to beam at him a ' good afternoon ' and ask how is he, you decided not to.

Once you've found the remote to your television, you turned the volume down so that your conversation with him wouldn't be interrupted. You've been just passing some time by watching Netflix for about a week now. Actually, not only for passing time but it is even for avoiding yourself to overthink your current situation - especially about your relationship status with Jongsuk.

" Could we.. " He first trailed off for a moment, contemplating if he should persist with the plan. " Could we meet up later? " That question alone made you joyful and excited, smiling from ear to ear. You give him your enthusiastic approval before ending your call by telling one another that you're both anticipating for your meet up. Turning off the television, you were off to your room to fix yourself. Afterall, this is your first meet up with him ever since the day you were parted by long distance — that's been like roughly 8 months. Him achieving his dreams as a model and actor, away from your home country, Australia. He did brought you with him though. The first months you shared the same apartment, every moment filled with happiness and love.

That is until everything drifted apart. It began with him moving to a dorm nearby and supported by his Entertainment. His weekend visits turned to none at all. Everything that became a habit with him vanished one by one. Leaving you only with memories. But it seems like today's the day you'll start to get everything back.

Oh how you are so oblivious to your bittersweet fate.

Arriving to the said location, Hangang Park. It runs through thousands of miles and has many parks along the way. An environment friendly place for people to enjoy nature, sports, foods, entertainments, fountains, and more. You personally just adore how comforting it is to be there and to have a breath-taking sight of Han River, especially at night. Every locals and tourists savor their time to be here the same as you do. Although as of today, you couldn't help but notice that the park isn't as packed as it usually is.

You sat down on a nearby bench, waiting for Jongsuk to make an appearance. He did told you to come in the late afternoon and you did get there in time. Leaning onto the bench, you let out a sigh. Eyes finding itself staring at the sky covered with gray clouds. The cold wind crashing into your figure, making you shiver. You were sure that you checked today's weather forecast before leaving your household, told you that it'll just be a cloudy day.

Children's hearty laughs soon began turning to murmurs and whispers. The sound of silverware and plates clinking rang through your ears. It sounded like the family's starting to pack up and clean up their picnic space. " Come on, let's go! " Called out by a woman in her late 20's, assumming that she's the mother. You grew anxious when you noticed how everyone seemed to abandon you alone. Why is everybody departing out of the blue? You've just arrived.

" (Y/N), " You heard your own name being mentioned and it came from  behind you. Recognizing the owner of the cordial tone of his voice, you turned around to meet a pair of eyes wearing misty gray contact lenses. Seeing him washed away all of your worries. Your heart's about to instantly jump out of your chest due to the fact that it's filled with pure happiness. Unconsciously smiling brightly at him.

" Love! " Running towards him, you hugged his tall form securely. Mumbling the words, " I missed you. "

However, to your surprise, he never returned the hug. In fact, Jongsuk gently removed your arms around his waist. " (Y/N), I missed you too, " He started, crouching a little bit to face you better. " Although I have something to tell you. Something important, that's why I came. " Something's starting to creep into your guts. As if it's warning you that there's something off about today. He stated that but he never smiled back at you ever since he made an appearance. Plus, he always addresses you by your real name. Not your shared endearment which is strange.

You hummed in response, your smile slowly fading from your lips. " What is it? " Jongsuk saw how your eyes sparkled with hope. He knows that you're yearning for him to tell you that your gut feeling is wrong. Which made him more guilty for what he's about to do.

" (Y/N), let's.. " He hesitated, hating the fact that he has to see you in this state. However, he does know better for what's best for the both of you. " Let's end this here. " To be better off with someone else. Those words were enough to shatter your heart into million of pieces. Your face fully turning into a gloomy countenance with a hint of confusion. Your lips starting to quiver. For a second, you were frozen into place. You dislike how you couldn't control yourself right now.

" I'm sorry, we just didn't work out anymore. " He continued. Thoughts were flooded with denial, that this is happening at this very moment or you must've misheard everything. But no, Jongsuk's facial expression says it all.

" I understand, " Your voice sounded brittle, holding back the tears. Pity is one of the things that's written on his face. That's the least thing you wanted from anyone, to pity you. As if it's telling that you're incapable of overcoming the worst situations in life, that you're fragile and being belittled. And you clearly despise it. " I'll take my leave now. "

With that, you walked away from him. Your arms found itself wrapping around your own figure, trying your best to calm down. Your mixed emotions of fury and agony almost getting the best of you. Although each second that's passing is killing you. Heart aching, lips quivering, you were just in the worst state ever. And once that first tear broke free, the rest followed in an unbroken stream. Resulting you to run away aimlessly. To wherever your feet may take you.

One drop, two drops fell from the skies that made you slow down until you come to a total halt. You looked up to the sky, seeing it covered with dark clouds. A droplet landed on your cheek, a simple gesture from the heavens of wiping off your tears and you'd like to think of it that way. It wasn't long after the drizzle transitioned to a downpour. As if the heavens are crying and mourning with one of its beloved (you) at what tragedy it witnessed. Unfortunately, you haven't brought your umbrella with you due to the fact that you believed at the false weather forecast. So, you let yourself get drenched in the rain. Not giving any piece of shit about the aftermath. You're currently already exhausted and under the weather.

You closed your eyes, body shivering to the cold air being left out from under the showering water. For a few minutes, you stayed there. Not even minding any comments from the people passing by. That is until you didn't feel the rain landing on your body out of the blue. Strange that you could feel a warm presence to your right. However, you could still hear water coming in contact with the pavement.

When you've parted your eyelids, you were greeted by a black fabric instead of gray clouds. " G'day mate, " A familiar deep voice laced with Australian accent greeted. Glancing to your left, he beamed a sweet smile at you. It was as warm, bright and blinding as the sunshine that it could possibly change the whole weather. To be honest, he's the least man you expected to see today since you thought he's as busy as your ex-boyfriend was.

Lee Felix.

" You know you'll get ill with what you're doing and that's least thing I wanna know from my mate. So, that's defo a no no from me, " He pointed out, handing you his umbrella. You timidly accepted it anyway, hand brushing pass his warm ones. Eyes instantly staring at the wet pavement as soon as it's in your grasp. Sighing, Felix took his jacket off and placed it on top of your shoulders. He also handed you a handkerchief after that, receiving a small thank you from you. Then took the umbrella handle back into his grip.

" You know, your ex-boyfriend's a dick, " That being stated by Felix, you let out a belly laugh while drying your face. Seeing your face lit up also made him laugh with you. Ever since the beginning, you both just clicked when Jongsuk first introduced him to you. The time one of you spoke the first " Aussie, Aussie, Aussie! " call, you felt the connection between the two of you while harmonizing at " Oi, Oi, Oi! ". And honestly, he's better at handling long distance friendships than your ex-boyfriend was. He made sure that he gives time for your friendship despite of his busy schedule from being an Idol. Which is impressive because that's just friendship, what more if he's in a relationship?

" I'm sorry, it's just – That came out from you very unexpectedly. I never saw that coming but I like the change. " You chuckled, now walking down the streets with Felix.

" Well, it's still true though, " Felix began, taking out his favorite fudgy brownies he bought from Sunny's. " How could he be so impatient and ghosted you for straight 8 months? And love is known to be patient. He let himself get defeated just by distance. " He took a bite at the brownie, chewing it thoroughly before continuing. " I even heard rumors of him and this make-up artist from his drama recently. "

" What the fuck, " You cursed under your breath, the last part surprising you. Avoiding the chances of you overthinking, you shook your head then changed the topic. " So you're admitting that you've been spying on me, huh? "

" Hey, it's not my fault that I was at Sunny's because my stomach's craving again for those pastries when I witnessed it, " Felix defended, earning a hum as a response from you.

" Though, it felt like I was watching a K-drama, " He jokingly added which ended with you smacking him upside the head playfully.

Reaching back home, you invited Felix for dinner and he gladly accepted the offer. As long as you agreed to his terms of conditions. Let him play League Of Legends on your PC and buffalo wings for dinner.

Coming out of the bathroom fully dressed and hair slightly damped, you saw Felix already busy playing on your PC. The headphones plugged into his ears. You're probably gonna kill him if you found out that he gave you a losing streak. Leaving the room, you went down to the kitchen. Preparing his desired meal. As you were doing so, you occasionally heard faint screams from upstairs which made you chuckle. It was quite odd how well Felix knows to immediately make your day better. Like as if nothing, no tragedy, ever happened earlier.

By the time you called Felix for dinner, he dashed down the flight of stairs and towards the dining area. His eyes sparkled and mouth almost drooling at the delicious sight plus taste of the meal. He didn't hesitate to dig in, taking one into his lips and you followed. While eating, Felix's eyes landed on a picture frame unintentionally, making him glare at it. " You should find someone better, " He suggested, his chocolate orbs meeting your own.

When you're always this close to him, you could see his charming points well. From his distinctive features to his gorgeous freckles. You still continued to believe that it was a constellation map drawn by the Gods so that people could never forget what the heavens looked like especially on cloudy days like today. It must've took a lot of patience, dedication and love to sculpt him. How blessed he is to be one of God's greatest masterpiece. Maybe, the heavens loves you so much that they sent him for you. Afterall, the heavens did show affection to you in a form of rainfall.

" Yeah, as if there's someone as better as you. " You murmured while continuing to feast onto the meal. However, Felix heard it clearly.

" Hmm.. " Felix pondered for a moment, chin resting on top of his hands. " Too bad there's only one of me. "

" Although this one does like you. "

End.

[igotyouniverse]

Mafia Au Preview (skz)

warnings: angst, weapons (there’s teeny tiny bit fluff and teeny tiny kisses too but mostly angst👀)

pairing: Chris (Bang Chan) x Oc

words: under 1k

a/n: the idea for this au is stuck in my head for months now. The preview turned out longer than expected- just wanna see if people still like some good ol’ mafia au 👀 should i actually turn this into a whole au?imagine i wanted to do this with ateez but well. I saw one (1) gif of Chris and byeeeee.

x

She looked outside the window, her eyes scanning every detail of the dark streets she could see. She thought about everything what happened these past hours and sighed. These hours felt like months slowly passing by yet like brief seconds at the same time. Her eyes looked up to the dark sky, which was slightly illuminated by the bright city lights. She saw how it slowly began to snow. The snowflakes were small, she could barely see them with her tired eyes yet they became more and danced through the cold air. Hypnotized by their dancing, her fingers trailed over the glass of the window, following the snowflakes.

Just for a second she felt peaceful.

Suddenly she heard the wooden floor in front of her door creaking and flinched, turning around and immediately grabbing the gun she always carried with her, even in her own bedroom. She felt her body stiffen and her mind going blank, how her breath started to hitch and her heart rate increase as her body filled with adrenaline. She cocked the gun with a click, pointing it at the door across the room. The young women tried to calm her breath, slow down her pounding heart and concentrate on holding the gun still, ready to shoot any moment.

“May I come in?” A male voice asked politely letting her relax at once. Her legs felt weak as the adrenaline rushed out of her body as fast as it came in. She leaned her back against the window, closing her dry eyes. Her hands wandered down, securing the weapong again before letting it rest on the ledge.

She felt how his eyes scanned her, filled with worry. It hurt to see him worry about her.

“They’re- We’re- worried about you. After all that happened.. I thought maybe you’d want to talk.”, Chris said with this incredible soft and caring voice. It took all of her strength to not just run into his arms and cry. But no. She knew she couldn’t do that, no matter how loud her heart started to beat and longed for his embrace.

“Thank you for your concern. But I’d honestly rather be alone right now.”, the women said, trying her best not to look into Chris’ eyes. The danger of her heart bursting into pieces once more were just too high.

“Please don’t push me away.”, a sigh escaped his lips as he moved to stand in front of her, his hand softly grabbing hers, trying to intertwine their cold fingers.

“Chris-“

“Don’t. I’m always by your side, you should know that.”, he whispered, his head resting on her shoulder before he placed a soft kiss in the crook of her neck.

She closed her eyes for a second, her body enjoying his touches way too much for her own good. She knew that it was wrong. But how can something be wrong if it felt so right? It was clear, that she could never be with him the way she so desperately wanted to and it tore her apart.

The way he touched her was so soft, like he was afraid she could break. She heard all these things he whispered to her, felt all these sparks and warmth growing inside her whenever his delicate lips touched her skin.

The way his lips placed dozens of small kisses on her neck, her cheek, her forehead and the cold tip of her nose made her body nearly shake. She felt so deeply for him she couldn’t find normal words to describe it. She loved the way he touched her with such softness and how his voice was filled with just so much affection.

She stared at their intertwined hands for a second before looking up at his face for the first time, his lips forming a sweet smile. The exact same smile she fell for not so long ago.

Her eyes wandered down to his lips, her body longing for more of him. She locked her eyes with his again, still torn inside, her mind fighting against her heart with such power. He slowly moved his head closer to hers, just until she could feel his breath against her skin, their noses softly touching. She could almost feel his lips on hers, her heart screaming for them to finally be with hers, yet she knew it was wrong. She needed to stop this - for both of their sakes.

“We can’t.”, she sighed, her voice shaking. She pressed her eyes shut, her head dropping down as she let go of Chris’ warm hands.

She knew he wanted to say something. She knew he suffered just as much as her. For a second, his emotions were written all over his face when she looked up but as soon as he saw her gaze he decided to put on a facade and moved away.

“I’m so sorry, Chris.” she tried to whisper but her voice broke down. She wanted to reach for him, grabbing his hand, pulling him to her, embracing him in her arms.

But she couldn’t.

“It’s alright, really. I’ll continue to guard so don’t worry. Try to get some sleep - I’ll see you tomorrow.”, he simply said, his voice shaking just as much as hers, showing her once more that she wasn’t the only one hurt. It tortured her to hear the pain in his voice but there was no other way.

Her eyes followed Chris’ silhouette and how it disappeared through the door without turning back. As soon as the door closed, the young women let her body slide down on the floor, face buried in her hands, her heart still beating strongly in her chest. Her mind was loud, screaming at her. It was an exhausting fight inside of her, draining her energy. She wanted to be strong but she felt how tears started to build up in the corner of her eyes and before she could even think they started to roll down her cheeks. She wrapped her own arms around her bend legs and pressed them together to try to feel at least a tiny bit of comfort. Too exhausted to fight against the tears she just let them freely roll over her cheeks, dropping down on her knees. Her body felt stiff and way too cold but she couldn’t move.

It felt like all the warmth she just had left the room with him.

masterlist

[leggomylino]

Vibe So Hot | Han Jisung

Genre: Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Han Jisung x fem!reader

AU: neighbor au, prank war au

Word Count: ~11.7k

Warning(s): mild language (censored)

A/N: inspired by the song “Vibe So Hot,” Priscilla Ahn

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

-〤〤〤-

There were times when you weren’t really sure about Han Jisung. 

The day you moved from your parent’s house into your new home, life was a dream. A delight. A living fantasy. You and your closest friend of twenty-odd years had been visualizing it for ages- a home for just the two of you, where you could make and break all the rules you wanted, eat dinner out of the cookie jar, throw paint and crayon all over the walls, and dump all the grease, homework, and leftover brussel sprouts down the garbage disposal that you wanted. It would be your kingdom with the two of you at equal pedestal on the throne, and no one could say or do anything about it.

While your visuals and ideals did change over time, what with hormones and taxes and a general understanding of how the world worked, you and F/n never stopped dreaming of the day you each held one half of the kingdom between your fingers. One half of freedom. It was a blissful, beautiful Tuesday morning. Exactly five months ago. Birds chirping in the small tulip trees. The sweet spring breeze ruffling the surrounding azaleas. The simple but water-efficient sprinkler system the two of you had worked a summer job to afford that was...spraying…...coke… 

...Yes, it had been a beautiful Tuesday morning. And also the arrival of hell next door.

“HAN JISUNG!” you yelled, banging on your neighbor’s front door. “Han Jisung, I know you’re home!” You stamped your foot. “Open this door right now!”

It was now five months later. Five months since you’d moved into your dream home, something small and sweet and affordable that you and your friend worked hard for years to achieve. Just something small to start the two of you out, while you finished up school and figured out what the heck the two of you wanted to do with the rest of your lives. 

It had easily become five months of back-and-forth hell. “HAN JISUNG!!!”

Click. The door slowly creaked open. It was dark inside, far too dark for 2 pm, like something out of a horror movie.

Oh, but you weren’t falling for another one of his tricks. Not this time. “Han Jisung, I know you’re there…” You called...weakly. “C-Come out this instant. I know it was you who stuffed cereal into the birdfeeder and left glue on the door handles. I was almost late for work this morning and F/n is stuck on the back porch.”

There was no response. You agitatedly sighed, running a hand through your hair and taking a handful of strands with you thanks to the faint remainder of krazy glue that simply wouldn’t come off.

“Han,” you called, poking your head inside. “Han? Han Jisun-”

The moment you stepped inside, a loud whrr! resounded, your body hoisting upwards. You spun around in the flimsily thin netting, falling into a fetal position backwards.

Han and a few of his cronies came out cackling at your expense, watching you gently spin and sway in their ridiculous trap. “I caught Y/n!” one of them cheered. “That’s 1,000 points.”

Another scoffed. “You didn’t do anything,” he said, blowing long blonde locks out of his face. “The points go to me for setting up the...project.”

“Shouldn’t they go to Han?” Yet another asked. “It’s his house.”

You rolled your eyes, attempting to adjust. Han tromped over proudly and swung his arm around the boy. “Exactly!” he cheered, pinching his cheek. “I’m glad you see it my way.”

The kid squinted his fox-like features in disgust, shoving the ringleader away from him. Han merely laughed, smirking up at you next. He sent a flirtatious wink your way. You scoffed.

“S’up, gorgeous?”

“Drop dead.”

“Ouch,” he playfully winced, pretending to take literal damage. “Didn’t like the glue, or the cereal? I told Hyunjin no one wanted his bland raisin garbage. But,” He shrugged. “He insisted it was good for the birds. The raisins, anyway-”

“Screw you,” Goldilocks groaned. “Shove off, I never said I ate the stuff. I just said it was better than wasting Lucky Charms or something actually good.”

“...Yeah, so there’s that.” He spared a passing eye roll before putting back on his deceitfully charming smile. Disgusting. “What brought you to swing by? Just dropping in?”

The other boys laughed again, causing you to turn an annoying shade of pinkish-red, some cross between coral and rouge. “I don’t have to tell you anything!” you snapped in your anger.

Unfortunately, Han Jisung needed to know the facts. “Then...how am I supposed to help you? Oh, oh! Hold on a minute.” He simpered. “Are you maybe trying to tell me that you came by unannounced because...you wanted to get caught up in my web?”

Han’s crew all made catcalls and whistles along with nervous smiles and suggestive expressions. The nerve of him. You fought yourself into an upright position, clawing angrily at the seams. “I meant you already know what you did wrong! Get me out of this stupid thing and get over to my house so you can fix it.”

“Oooo,” A freckled-faced boy you recognized as Felix cooed. He’d often been a leading officer in many of Han’s classic pranks and schemes. “I think she wants you bro.”

The heat on your face was intensifying, whether from rage or embarrassment, you didn’t care. Your prison shook. “That’s not what I-”

“Well then,” Han (classically) interrupted. “Guess I better get over there and fix it.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a salacious manner, padding around the clamour of boys and taking the stairs three at a time like a gazelle. When he reached the top, he revealed a rope from around the corner, lowering you gently...at first.

After three careful tugs, he dropped the rope entirely. Your eyes went wide, screaming as you fell--

...Right into Han Jisung’s arms. The boy glided down the stair rail and caught you at the last possible second. “Plenty of time to spare,” he insisted, showing you his teeth.

You slapped them away, wrestling your way back to your feet. “...You’re such an asshole, Han Jisung,” You dusted yourself off, smoothing out your attire single handedly. “I--”

...You yanked your hand down. Away from his face. Hard. Harder.

It was stuck. Your hand was stuck to his cheek. Krazy glue.

“OW! Ow ow ow okay! That hurts! Sh*t!” He cursed. You rolled your eyes, kicking his leg. 

“That’s what you get for gluing my door! Now come on!”

To make things less awkward, you gripped his left ear, yanking him like a mother would a misbehaving child. The others crowded around and followed, laughing as—

The door slammed in their face. “OW!” You heard Hyunjin yelp. His watered-down image through the distorted window showed him covering his nose, the other two goons frantically asking if he was okay.

...Well, Felix did, anyway. Fox-face merely stared and shook his head a little. “Let’s go. You’re cleaning the glue off both doors and changing out the birdfeeder. If you screw it up, you’re buying me a new one.” A harsh gaze fell over your shoulder. “After you unstick F/n!”

Han grunted, his groans and whines a feeble echo of white noise along with the ridiculous passes he occasionally made on the way over.

-〤〤〤-

After spending an hour and a half watching Han unstick glue from around your house (after unsticking your hand from his face) and taking a trip down to the hardware store for a new birdfeeder that 100% came out of his pocket, you sighed, trudging yourself through the front door and collapsing onto the nearest sofa by a front-facing window. You leered, observing Han shuffle up his own walkway and exchange harsh words with his friends before they all piled inside.

That bastard. He was always coming after you, ever since you first moved into the neighborhood. After the first week of assaults (from moving day) you’d asked the other neighbors if any of them had any bad experiences from house 117, but they all gave a generally same response: “Who, Han Jisung? Oh, heavens no! He’s such a nice boy! A little quirky, sure, but such a nice boy! ...Are you sure it wasn’t a raccoon or a stray cat?”

Heh, yeah. Like a stray cat was capable of impersonating your friend to have the locks on your house changed. Didn’t they have to do security checks for that stuff?!

Speaking of locks, the sound of keys ricocheted from your left, and you turned your head to see F/n enter...very strangely. They looked spooked, their eyes wide as they turned their head this way and that, creeping into the house like an Egyptian wall painting.

“Is the cost clear?” they asked. “Is he gone? Nothing’s missing? Nothing’s amiss?”

“Relax, F/n,” you said, scratching your head. You desperately needed a shower, but that had been rather hard with the pipes spewing nothing but Mr. Pibb for the past three days. It’d apparently be a fourth until they cleared out. “The menace is gone, back to his evil layer. I made sure he cleaned up his mess and got him to replace your grandmother’s birdfeeder.”

F/n scowled, back to normal as they tromped into the room, throwing their bags down. “She made that birdfeeder from scratch, Y/n. With her own two arthritis riddled hands, that birdfeeder may as well have been an ancient relic. It was one of a kind.”

“I know, I know,” you insisted, peacefully trying to calm them down. “Just relax. I got it under control and taken care of.”

“You said that last time. Now look at the place.”

You looked around. “...It looks spotless. Han actually did a really nice job with that extra work he put in.”

“Well it wasn’t before! ...Wait, you let him into the house?!”

Whoops. “Only to do some extra chores. To make up for outside. And many other times he’s screwed us over.”

Your friend grabbed the sides of their hair, practically seething. They regarded you like you’d gone insane, and they were just on the brink. “Y/n have you lost your mind? Are you stupid? I thought you were smart! What was that 3.5 GPA for?!”

“Hey, GPA isn’t everything. It’s just a matter of getting on a teacher’s good side and paying attention. Also, I’m aware that...that may have not been the best move. But it’s fine!” you insisted, now following your friend into the kitchen. “I was watching him the whole time. He didn’t leave my line of sight once!”

F/n opened the fridge, glaring perplexedly. “...Not once?”

“......” 

You thought. Oh wait...well…

You smiled sheepishly. “...Actually...ahaha...he may have asked to go to the bathroom once…”

F/n’s jaw dropped. “And you let him?!”

Your hands found their way into the air. “What was I supposed to do, F/n? Follow him into the bathroom? That’s creepy and gross and uncalled for.”

Your friend grabbed a beer from the fridge, slamming the door shut after. “No, Y/n. You tell him to go next door and use his bathroom.”

“But what if it was an emergency?”

“I think he can hold it.”

“But what if he couldn’t?”

They paused just beside you, giving you a harsh glare. “After all he’s done? I’d say that’s a real shame and another mess he’d have to clean up.”

“F/n--!”

“NO, Y/N,” Your friend of twenty-odd years turned to you, making it halfway back to the front door. “You don’t get it! It has been five years--”

“Five months.”

“...It has felt like I have had my guard up for five years. I can’t relax in my own home. I can’t relax at work, I can’t relax at school-- I can’t relax anywhere!” They polished off the beer, crumbling the can and tossing it aimlessly into the kitchen. You ducked, the can soaring over your left ear and colliding with a kitchen cabinet. “URGH!”

They grabbed their bags, beginning to march out. You were faster, sliding on sock-clad feet across Han-polished floors to beat them to it, blocking the exit. “F/n, listen. Please. I agree it’s bad, but I think you’re overreacting just a little.”

“Overreacting?! …” S/he crossed his/her arms, glaring at you skeptically and in disbelief. “Okay, fine. Which bathroom did he use?”

“Huh?”

“Which bathroom?”

You swallowed, thinking again. “...Uh...the upstairs one.”

F/n deadpanned. Cold and hard. “Great. Thank you for that. All my school supplies are up there. My office and workspace is up there. That’s where I sleep, Y/n.” You blinked. 

“You sleep in your office?”

“URGH!”

They pushed you aside, storming into the wide, open world. Hysterically you followed, snagging your keys off the side table by the front door and making sure to lock up behind you. “F/n- ...F/n wait…! Ah, stupid locks…!”

“Don’t follow me, Y/n!”

“WAIT!”

“I SAID DON’T FOLLOW ME!”

From the corner of your eye, a silhouette of dark brown hair and overly-white teeth made its way toward your property line. “Hello F/n, Y/n.” The careful fall breeze blew the shade from his eyes, where evil and mischief still resided. “Having a little back and forth banter, are we? A disagreement, perhaps?”

Han-bleeping-Jisung. Your vision narrowed, a scowl aimed directly at him. When he was around, it’s all you could focus on. Your senses heightened, and not in a good way. He couldn’t be trusted.

You shouldn’t have let him into your house. Your sensors were picking up on something. He seemed too happy for someone that was just forced into doing chores in a house that wasn’t their own. And willing so…

A hot vibe was residing along the back of your neck, between your shoulder blades. A sinking, sensationally bad feeling. “What can we help you with, Han?”

“Oh,” he piped, brows raised. “We’re on a single name basis now. That’s rare.”

F/n cast him a dark look and continued down the sidewalk to their car. You sighed, trying to relax and having little success; F/n was right, it was hard to remain calm with a hellion next door. “What do you need?”

Han Jisung shoved his hands in his pockets. “Need is a strong word. I need a lot of things. Food, water, air--”

A groan escaped your lips. “Fine. Forgive me. What do you want?”

“Hmmm…” He smirked, listing his head. “I want a lot of things, princess. Depends what you’re referring to.”

You’re pretty sure you could hear the gag coming from F/n’s car as they started the engine, shifting into reverse. Han chuckled, letting you know he heard it too.

“Alright, fine.” He held his hands up in surrender. “You caught me. I came to warn you.”

“Warn me about what?”

“......” He pursed his lips. “...I may have gotten a bit carried away and...well, I couldn’t resist, really. But I was thinking and, maybe it was in bad taste. Since Hyunjin did break your grandmother’s bird-thing.”

A rustling came from the bushes. “That wasn’t me! That was you!”

Han cringed, turning over his right shoulder. “Shhh!”

You faltered, zoning in on Han’s shrubbery. “Who is that? Is that Hyunjin hiding in your flowers?”

Han rolled his eyes, tossing...some junk from his pockets. A coin or something. “I told you not to say a word!” 

Blonde hair revealed itself from the viburnum bushes on Han’s property. “Cattywampus.”

“I SAID TO SHHH!”

Hyunjin scoffed. “Oh, so when we’re playing Scrabble, it’s not a word. But now that we’re probing Y/n for information, all of a sudden, it’s a word!” 

The air left your lungs, quite dramatically, and you took a step back farther into the safety of your porch. “...What is he talking about? What information?”

Tensions spiked like never before. Han simply groaned. “Dammit...thanks a lot, Hyunjin.” He turned to you with a sour face. “Yeah, okay, whatever, just...I wanted to know when your birthday was.”

He shrugged, trying to pull off the most innocent, blow-it-off look possible. You weren’t buying it. “What were you saying before? What did you do to my house?”

“Oh yeah,” He clasped his hands behind his back, sending another classic trademarked wink your way. Hyunjin freed himself from the viburnum flowers, along with Fox-face, who’d gotten himself tangled up in the next-door rose bush; he tripped over an illy placed hoolahoop and ran into Hyunjin, the two of them taking turns removing literal thorns from their sides. “I left you a present inside.”

I left you a present inside.

I left you a present inside.

He left you a present inside your house. A surprise. A bad one. You had invited him into your living space, your relaxation hub where relaxation was scarce, and gave him just enough alone time to leave something behind.

Something terrible. Something rotten.

Han Jisung was no longer looking like Han Jisung to you; what you saw before you was his true form: a plotting, overzealous, sadistic little impish demon of a man, no...a demon pretending to be a man. Someone like Han Jisung couldn’t possibly be human. There was no love at all in his heart.

“F/N!” You yelled, chasing after them as they drove down the street. “F/N, WAIT! STOP THE CAR! PLEASE!!!”

You could feel Han Jisung’s eyes as he trailed you all the way down Maple Street, his friends watching as F/n hit the brakes a hundred feet shy of the stop sign and let you clamber in the back. 

“Step on it.”

S/he nodded, slamming the accelerator and getting the two of you safely out of Dodge. “I’m going to a friend’s house. I have to return a few things I borrowed before Han Hellion ruins them,” They looked over their shoulder. “Where are you headed?”

Your eyes glared proudly through the rearview mirror. F/n drew back, nervously looking between you and the road unassured.

But there was nothing for it. They could yell and pitch a fit at you later. Today, this very moment, everything was going to end.

“The craft store,” you said. “And you’re coming with me.”

“What?”

“We’re taking our house back.”

“......”

The car rolled to a stop at the cross section of Water and Runway Boulevard. If it was the friend you were thinking of, F/n would have to make a right here. Your local craft store was the opposite direction.

With a unanimous nod through the rearview, the two of you made a left down Water Street.

-〤〤〤-

Hobby Lobby had to be your favorite store, next to Fye’s Music Records where you occasionally went for your music collection and your favorite restaurant. ...Though a store wasn’t really a restaurant, and vice-versa.

You and F/n scoured the many aisles of arts and crafts, decor and gifts, candles and knick-knacks, searching high and low for everything on a messy-scribbled list the two of you put together in the parking lot. Revenge was going to be so sweet. Total bliss.

“Buckets?” A young employee repeated back to you. “Yes, let’s see, they should be near the back of the store, on the right-hand side. If you pass the glitter and pipecleaners, you’ve gone too far. I believe they’re on Aisle 13.”

“Thanks,” F/n said, grabbing your wrist and dragging you behind them. They almost seemed more excited about this whole revenge-war than you did. “Aisle 10...Aisle 11...Aisle--”

S/he stopped, pale-stricken. “What is it?” You tried peering around the corner. “What’s wrong? Are they sold out or somethi--”

Your heart nearly stopped. There, in the middle of the aisle, stood Lee Felix, perusing a wide selection of glitter glue. A bucket (not a basket) hung from slack fingers, carrying a barrage of other craft equipment as well as a plastic bag from the Home Depot next door.

Some kind of rage was flooding through your system. You could sense it in F/n as well. The two of you were in sync, fed up with the Hellion Clan’s crazy antics and batsh*t ideas that only brought you pain and suffering. Enough was enough.

You practically shoved your friend aside. “LEE FELIX!”

Felix jumped, startled, frantic, eyes zooming in on you like a deer in headlights.

Then, unlike a deer in headlights, he ran.

“AFTER HIM!” F/n cried, shoving the list in their pocket. S/he ran farther towards the front of the store to block the entrance, while you followed in hot pursuit of the freckled boy’s trail.

Your phone buzzed as you ran, and without taking your eyes off your target you shuffled it out of your purse, slamming the receive button a little too hard. “What?!”

“He’s going towards the back of the store! He’s heading for the emergency exit!”

You gave a quizzical look toward your friend’s voice coming out of your phone, then back at your target’s backside. “What? How do you know that? Where are you?!”

“Look up. Aisle 1. Holiday crafts.”

Carefully your eyes scanned the tops of the shelves near the entrance, and after doing a double take on a statue you found F/n squatting among some Santa Claus and Christmas angels, a pair of high-grade binoculars in their mits.

You had no idea when they’d gotten those. “Where did you get those from?! How the heck did you get up there?”

“That’s not important right now! Just SEIZE HIM! He’s getting away, run faster!”

With an aggravated grunt you hung up, shoving your phone away and pushing your legs to hit the tile twice as hard. Some twenty feet in front of you Felix squeaked, making a surprise turn down Aisle 2 and knocking over a stack of decorative boxes. You cursed, calling forth your skills from high school gym to hurdle yourself over the monstrosity and skid to a temporary halt before barreling down the half-storage half-Christmas decor aisle. 

“He’s getting away!” F/n yelled. “Move!!!”

“Why don’t you help me?!” You called back. Felix made a 90 degree turn, charging farther back into the store in the opposite way you were anticipating; unless…  

A store manager suddenly appeared at the end of the aisle, holding her hand out to stop you. “Excuse me, I don’t think so; there’s no horseplay allowed in the store.”

Though she tried to grab you, you dodged like a badass, perrying right, then left, then spiraling after a mop of retreating orange hair down Aisle 7. “Can’t! Sorry! I’ll pay for this later!”

“I’m sorry?!”

“Hold that thought!”

The sound of static and muffled voices crackled behind you as the manager called for backup, but you didn’t care. This would all be over once the little coral pipsqueak was in your grasp; you’d make sure to make him sing everything that was going on.

“LEE FELIIIIIX!”

Somewhere on the opposite side Felix squealed, either running into something or barricading another path to ensure his freedom. You slid to another halt, straining your ears to pick up on the sound.

Maybe you could sneak up on him. You were getting pretty tired, and running all over the store wasn’t a very good strategy for either side. Tiptoeing down Aisle 6, buttons and sewing equipment, you held your breath, carefully peering down both directions of the aisle.

Empty, minus a mom and her kid. You dropped down on all fours, crawling to the next aisle-- except--

“Ow!” you hissed, pricking yourself on something sharp. It was a discarded sewing needle.

It gave you an idea. After sucking on the injury a moment, you snagged the discarded object, pinning it to the side of your bag. 

You hopped to your feet and gathered the strongest thread and yarn you could. After diving into a pile of fabrics when a few security guards walked by, you got back to work setting up your ingenious idea. A little thread here. Some fabric there. A weight right here…

You quickly sewed (loosely) a few strips of fabric together, finally finishing your creation. “Sorry, this aisle is closed right now,” you said to a few customers, spreading slime over each end of the hall. It was showtime. “I’m ready,” you told F/n, uttering the words through your phone.

F/n had done well to keep their disguise as an oddly-put Santa, peering through their binoculars when no one was looking. “Okay. I sort of lost him after the cops started lurking by here. Let’s see…”

Another curse left your lips. “He didn’t leave, did he?”

“No, I didn’t hear the doors open or close. He’s gotta still be here somewhere…..aha!” Their cry made you jump. “Found him!”

“Where?!”

“Opposite side. Aisle 18. He’s hiding around the picture frames.”

“Dang it,” you groaned, “I need him over here!” You looked around hesitantly. “Can you get him over to this side? I’m on Aisle 7. Additional Sewing and Craft Supplies. Fabrics, yarn, etc.”

“I’m scared to leave my post, but…” F/n sighed. “...I guess if you have a plan, I can chase him that way.”

“Great, okay. Hurry.”

“Roger.”

You hung up, taking another deep breath. Waiting. Ducking when the cops circled back around.

Suddenly, you heard a familiar battle cry from the other side of the store, followed by a man’s scream. The security guards and management started racing that way, but by the time they’d get there the source would be long gone…

Because he was headed straight for your trap. You scaled to the top of the aisle, keeping low with a blanket of fabric over your head as you watched Lee Felix weave in and out of craft stands and passing customers, buzzing toward Aisle 7 like a bee to a honey hive.

“RwARGH!” F/n cried, their Santa disguise flying with a full-powered shove. Felix went plunging for the nearest aisle, your aisle, and the moment his sneakers hit Elmer’s Color Slime Kit, he slipped, spinning out of control right into the giant DIY net you created. Yes! Score!

“HIYAH!” You screamed, jumping off the aisle shelf and tackling him. Gave over. You’d won. 

Felix squirmed and fought with all the strength he had left in him, his abs, his arms, his quads, but alas, twice his body weight from you and your friend combined was more than enough to stop him. He gave out with a long sigh just as an employee rounded the corner, crying for assistance.

You were out of time. Tying his hands behind his back and bundling the rest of the fabric around him, your friend threw a couple twenties from their pocket at the young man before the two of you slipped out the emergency exit.

“You’re going to tell us everything!” You demanded, carrying his torso. Felix scowled, rolling his eyes. Despite his obvious anger, he was sweating bullets and looked rather afraid. 

“I’m not telling you anything. You made me drop my stuff.”

“You can go back for it later. F/n, open the door.”

F/n shook their head, placing your captive’s feet down and unlocking the back of their car. “Nuh-uh. He’s riding back here.”

“In the trunk?!” The boy cried.

“In the trunk.”

F/n was dead serious. You stifled a laugh, even if it was kind of mean. Felix whined and bowed his head as the two of you placed him inside, F/n smacking a bow on his head that’d stuck to them during the chase.

“Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

The two of you slammed the door shut.

-〤〤〤-

The moment light hit your captive’s eyes, he squinted, groaning from the bumpy ride (as F/n insisted on hitting every speed bump and pothole). Lifting the boy on the count of three, he made sure to cry out for help- “HAN!!! HYUNJIN!!! JEONGIN!!! I’M OVER HERE!!!”- but, as it was expected, F/n simply dropped the boy on the driveway and threatened to stomp over a...delicate area...before smirking at his wide-eyed response and stuffing the bow in his mouth.

“Um, F/n…” You muttered, hoisting your prize up the porch steps, “don’t you think maybe you’re being too-”

“Don’t,” they warned, casting you a glare. “I’m not being too anything. These jerks deserve way worse.” They shifted Felix’s weight in order to allow you room to open the door. “Besides, it’s not like we’re gonna torture him or anything. Just ask a few questions.”

Felix gave a sigh of relief.

“...We can figure out what to do with him after that.”

...He took a sharp breath, beginning to sweat.

Inside the house the two of you tossed Felix onto the couch, running around the lower level to gather equipment before shifting him to a dining room chair. You were adjusting his bindings when the phone rang, F/n scampering off to answer it after sharing a look.

They smirked at the familiar caller I.D. “Y/n and F/n residence,” S/he answered in an overly-pleasant tone. “How may I help you?” Quickly they pulled the phone away, placing it down on speaker. The two of you, and Felix, glared at the voice coming out from the other side.

“We know you have him,” Han’s voice echoed throughout the living room. He sounded serious, demanding almost, sending a shiver down your spine. That was new. “What do you want?”

“Oh, what do we want?” F/n asked. They scoffed, peering out the blinds on the opposite side of the fireplace, just next to the kitchen. Directly at Han’s estate. “That’s something you don’t hear everyday.”

Han huffed, sounding disgusted. Suddenly, Felix erupted, spitting out the bow you’d forgotten to secure. “HAN! HAN I’M OKAY!!! BUT I LOST THE STUFF AT--”

Frantically you pounced, stuffing a fistful of Kleenex in his mouth. A chorus of anxious whispers filled the other line from Jisung and his goons, before Han silenced them and got back to business.

“Felix, if you can hear me, it’s okay. I need you to take one for the team right now until I come up with something.”

Ironically and unneeded, Felix nodded, as if Han could see him. You and F/n rolled your eyes. 

Suddenly, a loud splat! sent them squealing backwards. 

Your jaw dropped, watching rotten egg dribble and creep down your immaculately-just-cleaned window. Felix chuckled, falling on a sour note after you elbowed him. When two more assaults hit, you ducked for unnecessary cover behind Felix, F/n plastering themselves against the fireplace. 

“What do we do?!” you whispered, cringing every time an egg bomb made contact with the glass. What if by some crazy law of nature those things actually broke the window and leaked into the house?! It could take days to get the smell out. Heck, given that it was right next to the fireplace, and you had yet to test the installation of the seams...it’d likely start leaking into the house within the coming hours.

The pelts were slowly getting louder, rising in a horrifically drawn-out crescendo. “GIVE HIM BACK! GIVE HIM BACK!” you heard the goons chanting.

Were they on the roof?! You couldn’t bear this much longer. Your house was being eggified. Sullied. Disgraced. Finally cracking under the pressure, you flew some hand signals F/n’s direction that didn’t really mean anything and army-crawled to a yet-to-be-ambushed window, examining the battle situation outside before rolling back to your feet and sprinting for a backroom.

“Where are you going?!” F/n whispered harshly. S/he and Han bantered back and forth a bit, his demands of Felix’s release rattling the warfront before you returned with exactly what you’d been looking for: a megaphone. Ah, camp counselor days.

F/n saw what you were doing and instantly, wildly, vehemently shook their head no. But you were taking matters into your own hands now. 

“Han Jisung,” you stated, loudly enough so your voice could travel over the massive egg-pelting outside. “Hold your fire and I’ll bring Felix outside.”

You waited a few seconds, and the firing stopped. Han’s voice practically purred over the speaker. Very disgusting. “You’re starting to see things my way. That’s good.”

“Oh yes. I’m most certainly starting to see things your way.” The phone lifted between your fingers. “We’ll meet on the roofs in five minutes. If I hear or see one more egg on my property, the meeting is off.”

“......” There was an uncomfortable silence on the other line. 

You tilted your head. “Han Jisung? No deal?”

Felix whined a few feet behind you. Han sighed, clearly hearing it. “...Fine. We’ll meet you there.” Click.

You tossed the phone to F/n, who scarcely caught it, juggling it a few times on nervous butterfingers. “Alright, look,” s/he said, pacing across the room and slamming it down on the receiver. “I don’t know what kind of cockameme scheme you have planned, but…”

You smiled. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

They sighed exasperatingly. “I’m sure you told yourself that when you let him into the house earlier, too.”

“......” You faltered, crossing your arms. “Touche. But this time, I really know what I’m doing.” With the utmost confidence and summoned strength you tilted Felix’s chair back, causing him to panic. “C’mon. Help me get this up through the attic.”

-〤〤〤-

Glitter glue. Hair dye. A bucket.

Truth be told, you actually did manage to go back and secure Felix’s belongings. It was around some point during the creation of the gigantic net at Hobby Lobby: F/n had seen them while running around, snagged it, and stashed the goods in the car without telling you. 

Now, you were going to use them against the enemy. If only you knew what the wrench from Home Depot was for… “Okay, listen up,” you stated, standing proudly on your roof. F/n stood at your side, Felix in between you two, still strapped to the dining room chair. Though the Kleenex were now gone, his pie hole remained shut...with Puffs. Not the good brand, F/n had said. “We have your friend, and as you can clearly see, he’s fine. We haven’t done anything to him.”

“Yet,” Hyunjin sneered, standing atop Han’s roof. He crossed his arms at Han’s right, Fox-face (Jeongin) on the left. “I fail to see how tying him up and stuffing his mouth shut equates to not doing anything.”

“Hyunjin, enough big words,” Han moaned. “We get it, you’re good at Scrabble, and you should have won. Lay off already.”

Hyunjin growled, making a face. From the opposing roof, you lowered your mic, extending your hand left. F/n glanced sideways, placing the box of hair dye in your hand. The situation on the other side swiftly grew stiff, everyone’s eyes watching you expectantly.

“Y-Y/n...what are you doing?”

It came out as more of a statement than a question. A fretful smirk played on the corner of your lips. “Oh my, what am I doing? …”

Yours fingers got right to work tearing open the packaging. Felix turned his head as far as his binding would let him, his eyes widening and brows sinking beneath his coral-colored bangs the moment he recognized the object...and the word permanent etched within a warning sign. “Mmm! Mm-mm mmm! MMM!”

“Wait, Y/n,” F/n said, reaching out. They suddenly looked hesitant, unsure. “We never questioned him first. Shouldn’t we…”

You paused, tossing the box and plastic wrap over your shoulder. With any luck, it’d blow into Han Jisung’s yard; if not, you could just pick it up later. “What, now you’re getting cold feet?” You huffed. “You’re the one that was getting carried away before. I thought you were sick of all this crap.”

“I am...I am. I’m just saying, maybe we should have pressed him for answers before running up here.”

“After they started egging our house?! What, was I supposed to wait for toilet paper to fly through the trees and spray paint to stain our front door?!”

“No, I’m just saying—”

“I’m done talking!” Your eyes narrowed, focusing on Han’s. He was staring right back at you, an intense look residing. “I want revenge. I want action. This ends today.”

You popped the cap off the bottle of murky green liquid, Hyunjin and Jeongin both seeming to lose their posture as the cap flipped through the air, bouncing to the ground below. They started to squirm, much to your delight; though perhaps a little overdramatic; but it was about time the other side felt the same pain and turmoil you had. It’d been far too long an unjust imbalance.

But Han held his hands at peace, calming his soldiers and taking a step forward; sending the imbalance back where it was, in his favor. He cupped his hands around that loud mouth of his. “Y/n!!! Listen to me, you don’t wanna do this! ...I-I don’t think, anyway!”

He seemed nervous. Flustered. You actually had Han Jisung, Hellion of 117 Maple Street, in a nervous fluster. 

The moment was sweet, rich, decadent and savory. In the air, a cool breeze blew by. 

“I’m sorry? What was that?” You lifted the bottle over Felix’s head. His whole body tensed, slightly leaning away like a magnet that didn’t attract. 

Han bit his lip, gaze flitting between your hand and the boy below. Behind him, Hyunjin and Jeongin watched with battered breath, biting their nails and covering the lower half of their faces. Han sighed, suddenly waving his hand behind him. “Jeongin, you shouldn’t see this. Cover your eyes. I don’t know if I can stop her.”

The boy frowned, shakily turning from Han’s voice back to you. “I-I can’t, Han...it’s too horrible, but I can’t look away.”

“Then get back inside. I’m sure Y/n will at least allow that much.”

Raising his brow at you in question, you carefully gave a single nod, watching the young fox-face go. Jeongin had never done anything to you, except for maybe participate in the egg-throwing debacle eight minutes ago. Otherwise, as far as you could tell, he was clean, just a bystander in Han’s antics.

As the roof door shut above Jeongin’s head, F/n gave you a worried look. “Y/n…” s/he said, turning to you sideways. “...Something’s not—”

“Shhh!” You spat. Your hand holding the bottle teetered towards a horizontal slant. “Not now. This makes things easier. One less groupie to worry about.”

“But Y/n—”

Felix could practically sense your movements, starting to squeal. “HAN! Please! I have an interview tomorrow and I don’t think they allow unnatural hair!!!”

F/n grunted, crossing their arms at being ignored. You listed your head to match the angle of the bottle. Revenge was so sweet. “Well, Han?”

It felt like an eternity went by. Everything was still, calm, the only noise to be heard the rustling of the trees. A distant clicking that was probably just the other neighbor’s cat. You felt like you were in a Shonen anime, where the characters face off for episodes at a time with nothing but empty heated stares and uselessly repeated banter (usually flashbacks).

“......” Han Jisung swallowed. “Okay, Y/n, stop.” He sighed. “...You win.”

A heaviness released from your chest. You...won? That was it? Was he really just surrendering right now? No surprise counterattack? No negotiations?

Instead, Han Jisung and his last remaining sidekick glared pitifully in your direction, like all hope had fleeted from their grasp. Meaning… 

You won. You actually won... 

The biggest smile took over the lower half of your face, so happy you could have cheered, overjoyedly so, kissing your friend’s cheek. You squealed in delight, tossing the bottle in the air and not really caring where it landed, so excited, so stoked, so—

“Ow!” a young man’s voice said.

Gasp. What was that?! That didn’t sound like Felix or...your friend...that was...wasn’t...

“Y/n!!!”

You whirled around, just in time to see Jeongin standing at the height of your roof, stuffing your friend down the ladder. He paused, similar to how Felix had in Hobby Lobby; that deer in the headlights look; and with terrified effort kicked F/n down the attic, hopping in and letting the door drop after him. 

Laughter could be heard bellowing along the wind, a hurricane billowing your direction. You whirled around, flabbergasted, horrified to see Han Jisung with that coy smirk on his face, that evil glint in his eye, the long-legged Hyunjin doing a memey sort of dance, as the two of them laughing it up at your expense. Even Felix, still bound to the chair, was…

...Well, actually, he looked rather annoyed and a little pissed. “HEY!” he griped, stamping his feet. “What happened to releasing me first?! I thought that was part of the plan!”

Plan…? …… 

“You mean…” You glared expressionless. “This was all setup...from the beginning? Even Hobby Lobby?”

“Duh,” Hyunjin piped, giving you an incredulous look. “We saw you and F/n heading that way, so I called Felix while Han coached Jeongin on the art of...sneaking onto other's property. We knew the two of you were probably at your breaking point, given how you were screaming all the way down the street…” He shrugged. “We figured you’d try to retaliate. It was too good to pass up.”

“......”

Anger wasn’t enough anymore. You were downright enraged, seething...and also, a bit heartbroken. A lot heartbroken. It was all planned. Your revenge was just another part of their game. They anticipated it, adjusted to it, even arranged it. It was all for not...and, what’s more…

Now they had F/n. The Fox-faced demon would be scampering out of your house and into the devil’s layer at any minute.

But he’d made a fatal mistake. You still had one of their own in your grasp.

With the utmost vexation and irritability you screamed, grabbing the bottle of hair dye from where it got caught between two shilling panels and tore the whole lid off, dumping the entire bottle into Felix’s hair. Han and Hyunjin froze in the middle of their victorious dance ritual to watch in horror as Felix screeched, trying to shake the substance out and make any feeble attempt he could to get away. You ripped open the glitter glue next, aiming it right at his scalp.

“Give F/n back right now or I’m adding glitter. Lots of it.”

“......”

Han Jisung and Hwang Hyunjin just continued to stare at you dumbfounded. Because they didn’t respond, you emptied the entire container, not caring if it seeped into the boy’s eyes as you dropped everything else for the attic door. 

“OH SH*T! MY EYES! MY FACE! YOU GUYS SUCK! AHH—”

The roof latch clicked behind you.

Flying down the ladder and around the hall you ran with all your might for the front door. Surprisingly enough, however, Jeongin was having a tough time getting there himself, wrestling with F/n for a position that allowed him to keep them quiet while having the freedom to move quickly. Unfortunately for him, F/n wasn’t going down without a fight.

“Let...go…! Get…off…...ahh! Y/n!!!”

They were wrestling at the end of the hall, just above the stairs. You pushed yourself harder, faster, ready to pulverize this kid you once found cute and adorable.

Something was off, though. You noticed as you got closer. The way they fought— it was almost too carefully, like they were trying to avoid hitting something.

You found out too little too late. F/n’s eyes widened. 

“Y/n, no, look out—!”

Fwoosh!

Your foot tripped over a wire, and the three of you went tumbling upwards.

You couldn’t believe you fell for the same trick twice.

-〤〤〤-

“Hold still,” Hyunjin groaned, clawing at Felix’s bindings. The boy practically refused, squirming with all his might.

“I’m holding still! I can’t see!”

“What does that have to do with being still?!”

Felix fumed.

Han Jisung made his way to the top of the ladder, rolling onto his back to catch his breath. It wasn’t like he wanted to drive Y/n to do this. Rather, he was just having a little fun, passing time, and essentially, getting to know her. 

She was the girl he thought about spending quite a bit of his life with, after all.

He turned his head sideways, taking in the view of the mountains, the small forestry area, the big city on the other side. Dang it, he knew Y/n’s roof had a better view of the area. “Both of you...quit whining...for a sec…”

He fought to catch his breath. Normally he thought himself to be in pretty good shape, but maybe eating a whole cheesecake and slacking off last week for that Netflix marathon put him back a few steps. Diagonally above him, Hyunjin sighed, removing the last of Felix’s restraints. “Okay, there. You’re free now.”

Felix stood, immediately rubbing his shirt over his face and stretching his arms out wide, then his legs. He looked around. 

“Something wrong?” Hyun asked. Felix began to sweat, visible from a mile away.

“Oh, gosh, you guys. I still can’t see. I think I’m legally blonde.”

“......” Hyunjin blinked. “You mean legally blind? Legally Blonde is a movie.” He glanced up at his sparkling dishwater-green hair. “Also, your hair’s green now. An ugly green. And shiny. Too shiny—”

“Both of you shhh,” Han griped, sitting up sideways. He pushed himself up all the way, stumbling diagonally as he hiked up toward the other side of the roof. “Has Jeongin come out yet? Where’s Y/n?”

“I don’t know,” Felix spoke, swatting at his surroundings. “I can’t see anything.”

“He obviously wasn’t talking to you,” Hyunjin piped. He leaned over the edge, examining the front porch, then the lawn. “...I don’t know either. I didn’t hear the front door but, then again, I couldn’t hear anything with Whines-A-Lot back here blubbering so loud.”

“Why are you in such a bad mood today? Normally you’re really sweet and chill. And why is everyone attacking me all of a sudden?! I’m the one that agreed to be the bait of this operation! Me!”

“Okay, okay,” Han waved his hands. He really hated being the responsible one, but with these two at each other's throats and Jeongin nowhere to be found, he really had no other choice. “Felix, go inside and see if you can find Jeongin. Or Y/n. Anyone.”

Felix scoffed, throwing his hands in the air like a tossed salad. “Oh, yeah. Send the blind guy in. That plan always works. Makes total sense!”

“Oh, right...uhh, Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin scrunched up his face. “No way. I’m not going in there. Breaking and entering is not going on my personal record. Pranks are fine, but I’m not violating the law. That’s your department, Mr. Fifteen-Unpaid-Speeding-Tickets.”

“......” Groaning, Han made his way to the top of the roof, kneeling just short of the peak to pull the lever. However, the door wouldn’t budge. “...It’s locked.”

“Locked?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Locked.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Shoot, why would she stop to lock the door? Now wh—”

“HAN JISUNG!!!”

All three college boys froze. Crouching, they whipped their heads around wildly. Even Felix. “What was that?!” He asked. “Was that Y/n?!”

“HAN!!!” Another called. Smaller, lighter, yet contradictingly more masculine. Hyunjin gasped. 

“That sounded like Jeongin!”

Then, suddenly, all three missing voices meshed together, the chorus dark and booming: “LET US OUT! LET US OUT LET US OUT LET US OUT!!!”

Hyunjin jumped to his feet, kicking and pounding at the door. “Quick, open the door! We have to rescue Jeongin!”

Han’s jaw fell a little. “What about Y/n?”

“What about her?!” He grunted, hitting the door harder. “Jeongin is our first priority!”

“I thought you didn’t like breaking and entering,” Felix sneered from the back, still waving at the air like a recently-blind person would. His elder tsked, scowling.

“It’s not breaking and entering if someone’s life is in danger! Han, what the hell kind of trap did you put in there?!”

Han blinked, trying to process. Everything had gone South so quickly, curved in a direction he wasn’t expecting— he couldn’t think. His mind drew up blanks. Never in his thirteen years of pranking history had he ever not been in control of his own crafty work. 

Now his work was playing a joke on him. “Han! Hello?! Earth to Jisung?”

“...I…”

“What did you do in there?!”

“......” He swallowed, barely regaining his composure. “I set up another net. Just a quick one, like the one from earlier today.”

“What?!” Hyunjin roared. “But that took me all morning! How did you do it in five minutes?!”

“I didn’t,” he replied. “I did it in four.”

Hyunjin deadpanned, smacking a hand over his face. “‘Kay…how did you manage to pull that off?”

His superior in the art of mischief fell back on his behind, staring out seamlessly at nothing in particular. Obnoxiously calm for the circumstances. “I’ve been sneaking into her house every now and then when she left the back door open. I’d set up a small part here, or a spring wire there, just small stuff out of the way that no one’d notice. They’ve hardly been home with midterms going around.”

“......” Hyunjin shook his head in disbelief. “Han, there’s no way they wouldn’t notice or not accidentally set something like that off until now.”

Han turned back to him in earnest. “I just set the final wire down this afternoon. The activation one. One of them— probably Y/n— tripped over it.”

“...If that’s true, then…”

Another sonorous from down below reached the canopies above: “LET US OUT!!!”

Hyunjin dropped back on all fours. “LET US IN!!!” he cried, pounding on the hardwood door. “Jeongin, buddy, it’s going to be oka—”

“Come on!” Han said, leaping to his feet. He grabbed Felix by the wrist, tugging the two along behind him before making a crash landing for the bushes. No time to waste now. He needed to get his act together, take a leap of faith that, maybe, if he played his cards right, Y/n could see him in a whole new light.

It would be a long shot. If he remembered to jump from the right spot, anyway. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!” Both boys screamed, clinging to each other’s sides. They hit the shrubs, bouncing forward and rolling into Y/n’s front yard.

“...Was that a trampoline???” Felix asked. Han scoffed, shoving the two off of him.

“I planted an emergency escape device in her bushes last week, just in case.” He dusted himself off, screwing his head on straight while jogging to the front porch. “What do I look like, stupid or something?” 

“......” Hyunjin watched him cross to the front door, lying upside down. “Do you want us to answer that?”

“...No.” 

Han rang the doorbell. Stamped his foot. Remembered all house guests and tenants were currently tied up at the moment, slapped himself, panicked. He banged his fist against the door. 

“Y/n?! It’s okay! Daddy’s going to fix this!”

Hyunjin made a noise (he was full of noises), tromping up the steps while Felix rolled himself around in the yard, trying to figure out which way was up and what he should do with himself. “Did you just call yourself—”

“Yes, now shut up.” Han dug around in his pocket, pulling out a key. “Heh heh heh…” 

He jimmied the lock, twisting and turning the key this way and that. But the door wouldn’t budge, not even an inch.

“Sh*t!” He grabbed his hair. “Why isn’t this working?! I made copies of her keys three weeks ago!”

Hyunjin glared sideways. “You changed out her locks two weeks ago.” 

Shoot, that was right. Han kicked the door, fuming. “Dang it! ...Ow!” 

He was spent. Gone. Energy depleting. And now, his foot hurt. Spinning around he banged his head against the door, sliding down to sulk on his backside. 

He hadn’t meant for things to go awry. He’d just wanted to mess with Y/n, see what made her tick, have some fun. Find out what she liked, what she didn’t like, maybe get up the nerve to ask her what she was doing for dinner next Saturday so he could mess with the food at her favorite restaurant and force her to come to a candle-lit dinner in his backyard instead, where he’d have her second-favorite takeout waiting on plates of gold he’d “borrowed” from Hyunjin’s aunt.

If only things would have worked out that way. “LET US OUT LET US OUT LET US OUT!!!” the house called.

Hyun and Han shared a pitiful look, plastering themselves to the walls and door. They had no choice. There was nothing left. “LET US IN LET US IN LET US IN!!!”

“HAN JISU— …” 

Quiet. That was strange. What was it quiet?! What happened?! What could have—

...Oh no. What if…!

“DON’T HURT JEONGIN!” Han screamed, pressing his nose to the glass. “PLEASE! Y/N F/N PLEASE HYUNJIN WILL KILL ME IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO HIM!!!”

“WHAT?!” Hyunjin yelled, pressing against the glass as well. “Move over, I can’t see! WHAT ARE YOU FIENDISH PEOPLE DOING TO HIM?!”

There was no response. Han began sweating profusely, feeling his heart ready to burst in a bad way. This was it. It was over. He’d have to call the cops to have them released, and then Han would probably go to jail for twenty-seven misdemeanors and a couple felony charges. Not to mention those unpaid speeding tickets.

Chink. Clunk. Creek.

A force against him gave way, the front door magically opening. As Han and Hyunjin fell forward, a blind, sparkling, green-haired man smiled down at them, standing at the other side.

-〤〤〤-

The clamouring coming from your front door set you on edge, wiggling and slashing at the ties that bound you. And F/n. And Jeongin.

The three of you piled on top of each other in an awkward heap, you being fortunate enough to have flipped on top. “Ow! Y/n, get your foot out of my eye!” F/n cried.

Apologetically, you shifted your weight, trying to give them room in the small net. Jeongin huffed as you did, making the most cumberous and uncomfortable face as you shifted your bottom over his backside, close to his head. “This is your fault for sneaking in here and trying to kidnap F/n,” you scolded, only feeling a little sorry given the circumstances.

He blushed, perplexingly so, carefully trying to claw his way to a corner that didn’t exist. “I, um...I’m sorry…”

Like that was enough to get the three of you out of this arrangement. Rolling your eyes, you focused your attention on the front door you could just barely see, tuning your ears to adjust and pick up on anything.

“What are they saying?” F/n asked. You shrugged, huffing and puffing disorderly.

“I don’t know. I can barely hear anything. They’re whispering. They keep looking over here, though.”

“Who opened the door?! How did they get in here???”

F/n was currently squished with their head facing the opposite direction, explaining their heighted insecurity and naggingness. You sighed, squinting and rocking your weight in order to make the small flexible cage sway to better see around the corner. “I think...Felix let them in. He must have used the back door or something.”

“Son of a b*tch, Y/n!!!” F/n quietly fumed. “This is why I always tell you to make sure both doors are locked! You never think to check the back door and it drives me crazy!!!”

“I know, I know okay?! Calm down! You’re gonna draw attention!”

“HAN!!!” Jeongin suddenly screamed. “FELIX! GET ME OUT OF THIS THING!!!”

Both you and F/n panicked. “SHHHHHHHH!!!”

He regarded the two of you like you were crazy. “Just five minutes ago you were screaming too!”

F/n hissed. “Yeah, well that was five minutes ago, and this is now!”

Jeongin sighed. “Listen, this is really uncomfortable for me, especially because you’re sitting...entirely too close to me,” he spoke, “so how about I make a deal with you two?”

“No way. I don’t make deals with demons. Or vipers, or monsters, or Fox-faced devils that sneak into our house and try to kidnap me!!!”

Jeongin sighed again, letting out a slight hiss of annoyance at the end. At the base of the stairs, Han and Hyunjin started making their ascent, Felix stumbling around a bit with a bandana now over his eyes before following after them.

“Oh shoot,” you whispered. “Here they come.”

Making his way around the net once, Han paused right square before you; and there it was, that evil flirtatious wink, tongue sweeping over his lips scarcely so. “S’up, gorgeous?”

Shoot me. I want to die.

Han poked your nose, making a little annoying sound effect and laughing when you teetered backwards, swatting away at the germs he left on your face. “Aww, I think someone doesn’t like their situation very much.”

“Lay off. Get us out of this stupid thing and then get the hell out. If you don’t, I’m calling the cops.”

Han chuckled and slapped his leg like you were just the cutest little thing to him. “Oh, alright, calm down princess. You’re just sour over falling for the same trick twice.”

It burned you how much truth there was to those words. You would have spit at him if F/n wasn’t at risk of being in the line of fire. “Just shut up and get us out of here. Take your friend with you.”

Tangled up behind you, Jeongin sputtered; you could feel him roll his eyes. “Gladly,” he muttered.

After admiring your pissed-off look for a few seconds, and Han taking a few selfies for his own selfish gain, Han and Hyunjin got right to work, snipping wires here, tugging at rope there. Eventually, after a few moments of unblissful trepidation and embarrassment, the net lowered gently, falling lifelessly about a foot above ground. 

The three of you groaned, F/n having the wind knocked out of them for a second. Scampering and shoving off of each other, you turned away the moment you found your legs, brushing yourself off and walking down the hall a few paces. Your feet prickled with numbness, then faded and blood rushed through. 

When you turned around to check on F/n and kick everyone else out, Han Jisung had already found his way to your face. “Hey there, gorgeous. All better?”

You scowled most irately, placing your hands on his chest to push him off and startling yourself when he wouldn’t budge, and your hands just...stayed there. “Get out of here. You got us out, now you’re no longer welcome.”

“Oh, was that all you needed from me?” He smiled. Almost tenderly. Or maybe it was, you didn’t know. “I’m hurt, Y/n. I thought maybe we could...talk more. Get to know one another.”

“What?!” You tried to see around him, but he mirrored your every step and movement. When you pulled your hands away, he latched onto your wrists, placing them back. His fingers smoothed over the backs of your hands, intertwining with yours. You gulped, a feeling in your gut exploding.

“This is nice,” he said softly, giving your hands a gentle squeeze. “Isn’t it?”

It most certainly was not nice. Not nice at all! ...Yet, you were having quite a bit of trouble telling him that. His hands were so soft and...rigid...even the small calluses that sprouted along his palms and outline were somehow oddly alluring, inviting you to stay. 

You shivered, bristling all over. No, no. Get ahold of yourself Y/n. This can’t happen. I can’t go down like this. 

Shaking your head you shoved yourself back instead, running two steps to the right...and slamming gently into the adjacent wall. Gently. Softly. Softly slamming.

What the hell, why was everything with Han Jisung so soft all of a sudden?! You bore your eyes up at him, seeing as he was now just...inches away from you...again...g-getting closer…

His nose brushed right up against yours. A breath caught in your throat, begging to scream. Everything else in your body was. He had slithered himself to press up against you.

You’re pretty sure, even if you couldn’t feel it, your face was the darkest shade of red right now. Han undoubtedly noticed too, simpering just a fraction from your lips. “What should we do now, princess? Should we…” He inched your waist forward. “...go next door?”

Next door. Next door, where the hellhole of disasters had started. 

...Something about that line just didn’t sit right with you. Feeling as if the whole moment had been ruined (and good gravy you had to get out of this), you shimmied yourself a bit of wiggle room and shot your knee skyward, wincing as a howl of pain rang out in your ear. You kicked Han back, making a run for F/n…

...Who was again, gone. Everyone was gone.

Turning around, Han gave you a childish salute, that flirtatious wink following him all the way out the front door. You couldn’t do anything. Just observe him leave in shock.

Until you heard a thump from downstairs, and raced to find Felix feeling his way around the kitchen. 

“Now, I know there’s a backdoor somewhere...it was in here when I came in…”

You bore your eyes into him. Smirked.

Five minutes later, his whines echoed all through the house and down the porch steps.

-〤〤〤-

It may not have been high noon, but that didn’t stop Hyunjin and Fox-face Jeongin from turning on an old western showdown score. 

You stood on your side of the property line, Felix rebound though now standing at your side. If he was miffed about his hair and the overzealous glitter drawing attention to it, he didn’t say anything. Possibly because being temporarily blind was pulling all his attention away.

On the other side, about ten or twelve meters from the line, stood Han Jisung, in all his hellion, dark-profiled glory. F/n was bound and gagged beside him, looking like a tick about to pop. You’d never seen that vein before, throbbing above their forehead. Hyunjin and Jeongin observed from afar, amongst the safety of shade and porch railing.

You lifted the megaphone you’d brought back with you from the roof. “On the count of three,” you instructed, gripping Felix’s sleeve tight. 

Han Jisung cackled, or his eyes did anyway, a sparkle of humor at play. “Alright. Hostage exchange on three.”

“Okay…”

You both paced exactly twenty-something steps until you were only two feet from the line.

“One…”

“Two…”

“...Thre—”

“Wait.”

Your mind did a little flip, attention spiraling upward. “What?”

The hellion next door smirked. “I have one condition.”

“Oh?” You sputtered. “So do I.”

“Ladies first.”

You deadpanned. “Stop intervening and disturbing my life and F/n’s sanity and I won’t call the cops.”

He laughed, a very hearty, joyful sound. It sort of...made your heart spin. “That’s fair. I can agree to those terms...if you agree to mine.” You scoffed.

“And what would that be?”

Han Jisung smiled. Brighter than the sun. For once, it was almost as if he was revealing a side of his persona to you he’d kept locked away all this time; he suddenly appeared to be genuine, sincere, and oh-so benevolent. Not to mention handsome. “Go on a date with me. Saturday, at five.”

“What?!”

The world came to a crash. Everything just seemed to stop, the birds even dropping like flies to gawk at the enigma that was Han Jisung. Behind him and to the left, Jeongin and Hyunjin stared at each other in bewilderment. Felix muttered some kind of disbelief beneath his breath. F/n looked like s/he really would pop.

“Mmm?!” They shrieked. Han chuckled, ruffling his hair away from his face and casting squinted eyes out over the neighborhood. 

“Yeah, uh...I’ll pick you up at five, if you like. I mean, you have to, because this is a condition. My deal. Where we’re going is a surprise, but I can give you a hint.” He leaned forward, twitching his nose a bit. “There’s a lot of action going on in the color department, and it usually gives me an allergy attack. But, I figured you may enjoy watching my face fall apart.”

“.........”

Slowly, you adjusted your gaze over to F/n. They were shaking their head wildly, though limitedly, so as not to tip off anyone. 

“.........” You turned your face back to Han Jisung. “...Make it five-thirty. I have an errand to run that day.”

He bit his lower lip to keep from smiling too much. “Deal. Okay, on three. One…”

“Two…”

“Three.”

You each pushed your captives over at the same time, Felix and F/n stumbling forward over the property line. Hyunjin and Jeongin raced down into the lawn while you quickly got to work untying and freeing your housemate. 

S/he turned and looked to you with the utmost confusion and disappointment in their eyes. You smiled, sadly, and turning away watched as three of the four boys embraced and spat at each other, Hyunjin and Jeongin poking and teasing Felix about his hair, and Han Jisung watching you back with stars in his eyes. Once a hellion, it was as if a great fog had lifted over the valley, and now you could see he was both day and night. A myriad of sunlight, and a mischievous moon.

“You’re not really going on a date with him,” F/n scolded, walking in sync with you up the porch steps and in through the front door. You waited until they were safely inside and halfway to the kitchen for another drink, waving and even winking in Han Jisung’s direction. It caught him off guard, and you snickered at his confused stare. 

“We’ll see,” is all you said, shutting the door behind you.

-〤〤〤-

Saturday, 5:25 p.m.

Your house mysteriously felt like the Island of the Lost.

“F/n! Have you seen my hairbrush?!”

Running back and forth in front of the TV, up and down the stairs, rummaging through both bathrooms, F/n sighed, annoyed at having their early-evening talk show interrupted. They set the TV on mute. “What are you looking for? Your hairbrush?”

You nodded, heading back towards the upstairs bath. F/n jumped up from a commercial break, following you.

“How did you manage to lose your hairbrush? Sheesh, Y/n, you’ve been forgetful all day.”

You turned toward the mirror, staring worrisome eyes at the curlers in your hair, the sloppily-applied two minute makeup job on your face. F/n noticed as well, giving a small pout as s/he crossed their arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Where are you going, anyway?”

Uh-oh. “Hmm...?”

You pretended not to hear that. F/n blinked, their face falling to an unimpressed state. “I asked, where are you going?”

“......”

“......”

Downstairs, the doorbell rang. Crap. It wasn’t five-thirty yet!

F/n turned toward the sound, their brows lifting in minor surprise. “Who could that be? Are you expecting a package or anything?”

They began wandering in the direction of the staircase, but you cringed, throwing yourself as a blockade. “Ahahahahahahaha! …” Sweat. “...I-I’ll get it. You should get back to your show!”

F/n gasped, pushing past you and gracefully making a sharp left just a few feet from the door. Phew. 

You peered around the corner, trying to make out the silhouette through the foggy glass. 

Tall-ish. A bit on the short side. Skinny? Seemingly masculine.

It had to be him. Panic struck you like a bat out of hell, scrambling to the bathroom and ripping the curlers out of your hair. You fought through three bottles of creams and mascara while juggling your toothbrush hanging out of your mouth, rinsing, spitting, and finally flipping your hair down, shaking it loose and flipping back over.

Oh yeah. Messy-chic look. Perfect. With a touch of gloss (or lipstick) you smoothed out your casual-dressy outfit before skipping downstairs and slipping on your favorite dress shoes at the door, purse slung over your bodice.

This was it. You discreetly shifted your eyes to the left. F/n was still inthralld in their talk show. Now was your chance for a clean getaway without any awkward accusations or encounters.

Taking a deep, measured breath, you gingerly opened the door, blowing it out on the exhale. Han Jisung stood in all his new-lighted glory, his back turned to you as he examined the neighborhood, waiting.

You gave a small cough, stepping out and locking up behind you. Han turned around, his eyes widening when he saw you. “Whoa...uh…”

“Yes?” Your gaze traveled down to the flowers in his hand. “Are those for me, or an apology to F/n?”

You both laughed, Han thrusting them forward a bit forcefully. An awkward color painted a ring around his face, across his ears and along the curves of his cheeks. “Uh, b-both, I guess. ...But, mainly for you.”

He was nervous. For real this time. You smiled, taking the small bouquet and burying your face into the petals. You inhaled deeply. “...Mmm...they smell really nice!”

You beamed. For maybe five seconds. After that, a spout of water soaked your forehead.

Han Jisung pressed his lips together, trying his darndest not to laugh. His eyes avoided you entirely, observing everything but your face. A moment later, he bolted, signalling for his groupies to turn on the sprinklers. Coffee rained down on both of your lawns, dyeing both sides murky Vanilla Latte.

You chased him down the porch steps, through the caffeinated shower, laughing.

-〤〤〤-

“...And that about wraps up our show for today!”

F/n flipped the TV off, turning their gaze to the window. Is it raining already?

As they approached the window, their jaw fell. They opened the window. “Y/N!!! HAN JISUNG!!!”

...It was no use.

Pulling up a chair, they fell to their knees, observing the bizarre weather in a moment of acceptance. They extended their mug over the windowsill, sighing as the caffeinated shower refilled their morning latte.

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

[hanjisungz-remade]

love equation ☽ minho

✦ genre: friends to lovers au, college au, fluff, slight angst ✦ description: minho’s ideas were dangerous but of course, as his best friend, you went along with them all. this one, however, could be dangerous for you. specifically your heart ✦ pairings: lee minho x reader ✦ word count: 11.5k ✦ warnings: mild language, slightly suggestive at points ✦ a/n: i decided i wanted to get back into writing fics and here is my first fic in three years! i’m a little bit rusty but i hope you all like it ♡

i.

“Ta-da! All done.” You smiled, taking a step back to admire the work you’d done. Small picture frames littered the walls of your new bedroom, stereotypical fairy lights decorating the empty space around it. It wasn’t night just yet, but you were excited to be able to lay down and see a recreation of the night sky on your ceiling.

However, as soon as you stopped hanging everything up, a sharp pain shot through your back. A shockwave of small pricks traveling from your lower back to above your shoulder blades. Suddenly everything seemed too much, the pain making you lightheaded.

Turning on your heels, you slowly walked out to your living room, plopping down on the couch and bringing both of your hands to your back. As much as you tried to massage out the pain, there was only so much your own reach could do. 

Great, first day of college and you get hurt, you thought. 

Just as you were about to text your best friend, Minho, to see if he had gotten settled in, you heard a knock at your door. Before you could ask who it is, the person at the other side sighed, “Don’t keep me waiting all day!” Speak of the devil, you thought as you continued the assault on your taut muscles.

“Door’s open!” You shout, maybe too loud, at Minho, watching as he flung open the door and looked around the room, eyes settling on you wincing in pain.

“First of all, lock your door! You don’t know what kind of creep can just walk in.”

Before he could continue you interrupted, “Like you just did?”

Minho raised his eyebrows almost to his hairline, “You’re the one that let me in!” There’s a slight pause before he continued on, his face now shifted to one of concern, “What happened to you?”

Leaning back so your head rested on the wall behind you, you groaned again, “I was hanging up picture frames in my bedroom and I must have pulled a muscle.” You winced as you sat up, hands continuing to massage your lower back. “Or multiple muscles.” 

Sitting up caused you to get a full look at what Minho was wearing. A pair of black basketball shorts along with an old Metallica shirt that was a little too big on him settled on his frame. It was big enough to dip down in the front, showing his collarbones and the silver chain necklace that always hung around his neck. You knew these were his relaxed, “i-look-bad-but-i-don't-care” clothes, but why did he look so good?!

You found yourself staring at him and you tried to shake off the thoughts of finding your best friend that attractive but no one could deny that Lee Minho had always been one of the most attractive guys in your class.

Said man seemed to notice your eyes glazed over, because he suddenly appeared right in front of you, hand waving furiously across your face, “Hello? Earth to Y/N? Anyone in there?” He raised a hand, presumably to hit you on the head, but then quickly retracted it.

“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry I was just thinking about classes starting tomorrow.” You chuckled, wincing slightly as a shock ran up your back. Surely these thoughts would pass, they always did. 

Minho moved around to sit next to you, smiling as he bounced up and down on your couch. “I’m so excited! My first class is choreography 101 and I heard the instructor made dances for all the big pop stars!” He leaned into you, looking up at the empty space. “Think of it. Taylor Swift, Harry Styles, Beyonce, I could be one of those people to make dances for them!” His arms outstretched before he whipped around to face you.

Suddenly you realized just how close you were, and you’ve been this close before but now you focused on how his eyes sparkled when he talked about the one thing he loved. You shook those thoughts away, seeing his bright smile and immediately countering with your own. 

“That sounds great, Min! I’m sure you’ll be one of the best choreographers in the world.” Again, you shook off the intense beating of your heart and forced yourself not to let your eyes wander down to Minho’s lips. No matter how much it tempted you, you would resist.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend, you're required to say it.” He nudged your side, standing up and looking around once. “Your dorm is actually really cool, and you're lucky you don’t have a roommate.” Pausing, he looked at you, wiggling his eyebrows in a very mischievous and very Minho-like way. “You can bring guys over and not worry about thin walls.”

He knew you had never dated anyone before, much less had to worry about ‘thin walls’, yet he always used it tease you lightly. You had thought about dating before, but as you always countered back at him, you weren’t sure how it was supposed to work. Sure, people meet and they get together, but what happens after that? It was like some sort of mystery that you were way too skeptical to jump into.

“Maybe you’ll meet someone in your geeky science classes! You know, a cute chemist that can woo you with a love potion.” Minho waved his hand around as if he was holding a wand.

You rolled your eyes as his suggestion, yet the idea didn’t seem that bad. Maybe you could get your mind off of your newfound feelings for Minho (that were probably always there yet you refused to believe) and score yourself your first relationship.

“I guess that doesn’t sound that bad.” You said, standing up from the couch and stretching. The pain in your back had diminished somewhat, and you found yourself feeling somewhat liberated from the worries of freshman year.

“What are your classes tomorrow?” Minho backed up into the doorframe, waving hello to some of the people passing by.

“Uh, Chemistry Lab and English Lit.” You replied.

“Are we still going to have our monthly movie nights?” His voice sounded hopeful and you smiled gently at him. 

You walked up to him in the doorway, reaching one hand up and ruffling his already tousled hair. “Of course, Min. You’re only a building away now so we can watch even more movies.”

“Awesome, I can’t wait.” Minho leaned forward, moving one hand from the doorframe and resting his hand on your head, repeating the same motion you did to him.

He ran away laughing before you could do anything about it, but you got one good, “asshole!” in before he rounded the corner, out of your sight and hopefully out of your mind.

ii.

Walking into your first class of your new college life was nerve wracking, to say the least, and you hadn’t started off the day too well either. First, you woke up to a loud argument from the room next to you. It’s the first day and there’s already yelling?! Then, you almost forgot your student ID, effectively locking you out of the classroom buildings. And finally, the icing on the cake, you almost burst into a class in the middle of a test because you thought it was yours and you knew you would be dreaming about that horrifically embarrassing moment for years to come.

Luckily, none of that happened, and you passed through your English Lit class with just a large book and thick packet the teacher deemed as the syllabus. Next was Chemistry and as you looked around the room, there were only two empty seats. One of them being right in front of the teacher’s desk and the other being next to a guy already messing with the beakers sat in front of each table. Since it was your very first day of class, you decided against sitting right in front of the teacher, opting to slowly approach the man that was really engrossed in whatever he was doing.

“Hello?” You asked, speaking loud enough to be heard amongst the pre-class chatter throughout the room. “Can I sit here?”

When he turned around, you took notice of his soft brown eyes. He seemed surprised, mouth hung open as he looked to the beaker in his hand and then at the empty seat next to you.

“Oh, yeah! Of course.” He answered, sliding over slightly to make room for you. “My name is Chan.”

“Nice to meet you, my name is Y/N.” You took out a pen, eyes drifting to his hands holding the beaker. Chan went back to looking at it suspiciously, eyebrows furrowed in a tight line. “Um, can I ask what you’re doing?” You asked. You didn’t know where this confidence came from, you would normally never interact with classmates unless instructed to, but you already found yourself somewhat comfortable around Chan.

He chuckled, and your eyes were drawn to his big smile and the one dimple poking at his right cheek. “I was just checking to make sure there wasn’t any extra residue from past classes left in here. I wouldn’t want any extra cesium or germane left in here and then we all go boom!”

You were impressed by his knowledge, nodding your head and waiting for class to start. Tapping your pen, you looked around at the other students. They all seemed engulfed in the beakers in front of them. Some turned on the burners while others went to the front where small bags were arranged in groups.

“Are we supposed to be starting an experiment?” You looked around the room again, and then to the paper at the front of your desk. Picking it up, you noticed Chan coming closer to you, head peering over at the paper.

“Pick up the bags of chemicals on the table up front.” Chan read aloud, “Then test each chemical, recording your findings on each one. This assignment is a team assignment. Work with your partner next to you. Good luck!”

Immediately he went to grab the bags and you couldn’t help but look him up and down. His shoulders were very wide, the hint of two earrings poking out from behind his curly hair and there were three rings all on his right hand. You weren’t sure why you were checking him out this much, but he held a dorky and interesting aura that made you want to find out more.

As he was walking back, he held up the bags, all with various different colors, and said in an all too cheery but very sweet voice, “Ready to do this, partner?”

You mimicked his smile, “Let’s go, partner.”

iii.

After your second chemistry class, Chan had asked for your number and feeling that this was an opportunity to try and banish your feelings for Minho and possibly get yourself your first boyfriend, you agreed. Honestly you weren’t sure if Chan thought of you in the same way, but the image of his smile clouded your judgement so you agreed. 

For the past two days you had been texting him and asking about the countless textbook pages that you were assigned as homework. Of course no one in the class wanted to do them, but you figured having someone to motivate you by saying he’s already finished the pages could be of some help.

Now it was Saturday and you could feel the relaxation taking over as you got back from the library, checking out books on the various chemical reactions that water could have to prepare for a quiz next week. As soon as you walked through your door you ran into your room, changing into a soft baggy shirt and shorts. The weather hadn’t changed from warm to cold yet, so you knew you had a few more weeks until you could dodge shaving for a day or two in favor of wearing jeans.

You’re snapped back to reality as you heard someone knock on the door, immediately remembering that this was your monthly movie night with Minho. You two had been doing this since the beginning of high school and very rarely had you missed a month, and those had been because of severe stomach flu and a date Minho had that he swore he couldn’t pass up even though they broke up two weeks later.

You ran to the door after the knocking turned into more of a drum beat. “Okay, okay I’m coming. Calm your ass.” 

“I wasn’t the one that said 5 PM on the dot. You’re the one that’s late.” Minho walked through the door with a stack of movies in his arms and all of a sudden you were reminded of your annoying feelings for this man.

“I figured we could start with one or two and if it’s too late we could hit the hay and leave the rest here for next month.” He turned around and you noticed the small dark bags under his eyes. You hadn’t texted him much if at all this week, too focused on the start of all your classes this semester but you knew he must be exhausted from all the dance classes he took. It was his major but there was only so much your legs could move before they gave out.

“You look tired.” You remarked, walking over to the couch and motioning for him to sit next to you.

He obliged, sitting down with a thump and resting his head just as you had done the weekend before. “I practiced late last night finishing this short dance piece for class. It’s nothing,” Minho picked his head up and shot you a smile, “I’ll be fine.”

You eyed him suspiciously, not fully believing him, but instead nodding. “Okay.” Then you turned your head to the stack of movies, flipping through them and settling on a scary one you didn’t think you had seen before. “I haven’t seen this one, have you?” Minho shook his head. “Great, let’s start.”

You stood up to put the movie in the DVD player before settling back onto the couch in the most comfortable position. Your feet were resting in Minho’s lap, his hands softly tapping a beat onto your shins. You noticed he was wearing a similar outfit to the last time you saw him, this time with a brightly tie dyed Nirvana shirt. 

Before your mind could wander, you heard the loud screams from the screen and you snapped your attention back to the movie. You didn’t want to think about how much you wanted to be wrapped in his arms or how much you craved his fingers dancing down your arms or face before he kissed you. You didn’t want to think about it, so you forced yourself to watch the already cheesy thrasher movie playing in front of you.

You noticed Minho’s hands would squeeze your leg when a jumpscare popped up, the slight pressure causing you to look up at him. His eyes were squinted, lips set in a straight line as he cocked his head to the side. It seemed he thought this movie was bad, and you definitely couldn't disagree with that sentiment.

Suddenly Minho leaned forward and paused the movie, hand flinging up towards the screen. “Look at that! This relationship is not realistic.” You shrugged, not knowing exactly what a realistic relationship would look like, yet letting him go on. “It’s so obvious that the guy is gonna die and she’s going to be the only one left at the end.” Something close to a scowl crept up on his face.

“I agree this movie is trash, but I want to see the end.” You sat up and shrugged again. “Besides, I don’t know what a realistic relationship looks like so I thought they looked cute.” You chuckled, turning around when you heard your phone beep. 

It was Chan, texting you a joke about the chemicals you were learning about and you found yourself laughing softly at it. Minho leaned forward, peering over your shoulder, a sound of surprise coming from him as he sat back, “Did you find someone? He better be good if he’s interrupting our monthly movie night.” His voice sounded hopeful, yet you thought there was a hint of disappointment. Maybe that was just your own brain hoping, so you brushed past it. 

“I don’t know, maybe? His name is Chan and he’s my lab partner for chemistry.” You looked up from your phone, a small frown on your face. “You know I’m not good with relationships, Min. I’m worried I’ll mess something up.”

Minho nodded along, one side of his mouth tilted up as if he was deep in thought. “I have an idea.” He finally spit out after sitting there for a minute.

Normally when Minho said he had an idea, you were terrified, to say the least, since those ideas usually consisted of something dangerous or potentially trouble-causing. But of course, you were his best friend, so you almost always went along with whatever plan he had. You signaled for him to say it, but you were not expecting what came out of his mouth.

“Well, you’ve never been in a relationship. And I don’t want inexperience to get in between you and a good guy, so why don’t I show you how you should be treated in a relationship?” His tone was nonchalant but you saw a nervousness behind his eyes. And at that moment you knew that this idea of his was dangerous. It was dangerous for your heart.

Yet you still nodded. What could go wrong? You thought as you clarified, “so you mean like pretending to date?”

Minho shrugged, “I guess? I didn’t think past this point.” He sat up, grabbing both of your hands. He was warm, and the thought of those hands cupping your face made your heart speed up. “I want you to have some experience before you find someone. I don’t want you to be an awkward mess.” He chuckled and you found yourself relaxing and laughing back. “I just thought we could do some couple things, I could show you the ropes, and when you feel like you're ready, you can go after this Chan guy with all the knowledge you gained from me. It’s like best friends with romantic benefits.”

The thought of experiencing anything close to romantic with Minho made your heart almost explode out of your chest, yet you thought that maybe if you did this it would somehow satisfy your feelings for him and you could move on.

So you nodded again. “Sure,” you said, smiling, “let’s do it.”

“Cool. Now come here.” Minho sat back, motioning for you to come closer so you did. Your knees moved against the plush couch and as soon as you were close enough, Minho’s arm wrapped around your shoulders. You let out a soft sound of surprise as your head was met with his chest.

You had cuddled with Minho before, after a sad movie when you just needed a shoulder to cry on, after getting accepted to college and you fell asleep on him that night talking about how excited you were to be going to the same school. 

But this was different. This was Minho moving one hand to start the movie again. This was Minho resting one hand on your arm, fingers going back to tapping a soft rhythm. This was Minho and his scent invading your nose. This was your best friend softly holding you as you relaxed into his touch.

“I know it’s trash but how about we have a bad movie night?” He didn’t need to raise his voice much, your ear pressed against his chest. You could practically hear the rumble in his chest as he spoke. You had expected it to become awkward, but after a breath, you relaxed into his arms, one of your own hesitantly resting on his stomach.

“Is this right?” You asked, wanting to get as much information as you could. If this was supposed to be a learning experience you were going to make the most of it.

Minho chuckled and you felt the vibrations through your whole body. “Yea, that’s good, but you can move your head to wherever you feel comfortable.”

Your back was starting to ache from this position, so you listened to Minho’s words, adjusting yourself so that your forehead was against his neck. Your hand that was previously on his stomach went to wrap around his torso. 

On an instinct that only comes with a lot of experience, Minho’s hand went to your back, his palm moving slowly up and down your spine. You felt a shiver run through you which made no sense because Minho was really warm and that warmth spread from head to toe.

You thought about just how many people Minho had done this with. You knew just how many significant others he’d had, and the thought of anyone else doing this with him stung just a little bit.

It also stung to know that eventually you would go back to best friends and he would likely forget this ever happened. As much as you wanted to push back the feelings, you felt a small spark in your stomach and you knew if you let this go on for a while it would only cause you pain.

Minho must have sensed your tense shoulders because the hand that was on your back moved to your hair. His fingertips danced across your scalp. “You okay Y/N?” His voice was soft, head tilting down and you could feel his lips inches away from your forehead. The way he said your voice could only be described as delicate. It was a soft whisper said into thin air and if you hadn’t been pressed right up against him you were sure you wouldn't have heard it.

“Yeah, I’m okay, just cold.” Your voice mimicked his own, your breath fanning out against his shirt. Though you knew it would hurt, you decided that you would throw caution into the wind and just enjoy the now.

As you continued on with the movie, you took notice of Minho’s hand. One rested on the side of the couch, ready to turn off the movie if it got too bad, while the other alternated from resting on your arm to rubbing soothing circles into your back.

Everything overwhelmed your senses. His hand felt soft on your back, touching you as if you were porcelain. His shirt smelled of laundry detergent but with your nose pressed into his neck you caught a scent that was obviously very Minho. You couldn’t put your finger on it particularly, but it was a smell that you didn't think you could ever identify except by one name, Minho. His heart thumped against your ear, and it reminded you of just how real this was and how his heartbeat was oddly fast.

A sense of comfort washed over you, and you realized you were subconsciously drawing circles into Minho’s stomach with your right hand. His shirt was soft and you had the overwhelming urge to slip under his shirt and find out if his skin was just as plush.

Suddenly all of the exhaustion you had pushed off from the week caught up to you. Your eyelids drooped down halfway, and you felt Minho move his head, peering down at you. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.” He chuckled.

He had called you countless nicknames before, some jokingly vulgar and others only someone who you were close with could use, but sweetheart was different. It made you smile and oblige his words, letting yourself fall into a slumber with a smile stuck on your face.

iv.

A soft swaying woke you from your dream. You hadn’t even remembered exactly what the dream was about, but you knew that Minho was there and you thought it must have been a good thing you didn’t remember.

Air sweeped below you and you realized that you weren’t standing nor sitting, you were being carried, albeit very carefully. You felt the tentative steps of the person carrying you and you could only assume it was Minho. 

His arms were holding you gently, so much so that you could barely feel his fingers touching your shoulders and legs. You knew he was strong, but he moved with such light steps that it seemed as though he had no trouble in transporting you to your bedroom.

It was only another moment before you felt your body on the mattress and you decided to act as if you were still sleeping. You let your body naturally curl onto your side and it was then you remembered that it was probably late. You weren’t sure how long you slept but it was still too late for Minho to walk to his dorm. 

You thought about waking up and asking him if he wanted to sleep on the couch or with you, but you were stopped by the feeling of a warm body pulling you softly against him. When your back hit something hard, you almost gave yourself away, gasping as an arm settled onto your waist.

This wasn’t the first time you found yourself in this position with Minho. Hell, you had known each other for nearly 10 years of your life, there wasn’t much you had kept private from Minho and vice versa. But this part, this vulnerable and far too touch deprived side of you, had never been shown to anyone and it was terrifying.

The tendrils of sleep were just about to overcome you when you remembered something that made your stomach flip and your heart start racing. Minho didn’t know you were awake. Why would he do these things if he knew you wouldn’t know? 

Surely it was for when you woke up. Surely it wasn’t your mind running a mile a minute. You couldn't help but hold a small bit of hope, however, as you finally drifted off into sleep.

v. 

It had been three days since your agreement with Minho and you were met with radio silence. It’s not like you’re dating you thought to yourself as you walked back to your dorm from your final lecture of the day.

However as soon as you set your books down, your phone rang, the familiar contact name of ‘my favorite asshole’ popping up on the screen. It had been Minho who had changed his contact name, claiming it was “way too basic for your best friend.”

“Hey, what’s up?” You tried not to sound too upset at the lack of communication but you knew Minho like the back of your hand and you also knew that Minho knew you like the back of his hand.

“Practicing for an exam coming up next week.” His voice echoed and you were about to try and distract him with questions but he beat you to it. “Are you okay? You sound weird.”

“I’m just tired as fuck. Two tests and a lab experiment has been kicking my ass.” You replied and you weren’t lying, your back was starting to ache again from the constant moving around in Chemistry and you could feel a headache coming on.

There was a pause on the other line as Minho seemed to contemplate something. “Do you just wanna rest then?”

“I don’t know, I have some homework I should finish before I even think about a nap.” As soon as you replied, you followed up with a very curious, “Why? What’s up?”

Minho’s voice quieted for the moment, like someone was next to him and he didn’t want them to hear what he was saying. “I was just wondering if you wanted to come over and watch me practice. It’s been a while since we hung out and I miss my best friend.” There it was, best friend. It's exactly what you were, except you couldn’t help but feel a small pang in your chest. His voice dropped even quieter this time. “But you have to be sneaky, my dance teacher is strict about not letting dance students in the practice rooms.”

“Yea, sure. That sounds fun.” You grabbed your books, thinking you could get some work in. “I miss my best friend too.” You smiled. “Even if you’re an asshole sometimes.”

The giggle on the other side of the phone caused you to feel that warmth that you did three days ago. “But I’m you’re favorite asshole.” Minho countered.

He hung up before you could reply, so you gathered your things and headed to the dance studio.

The walk to the studio didn’t take long, in fact it was only two buildings over, so you got there rather quickly. After texting Minho you were there, you heard the door unlock and a fluffy haired Minho poke his head out.

“Come on in.” He held the door open for you, the hand that wasn’t gripped onto the door coming to rest on your lower back. It was surprising but you willed yourself not to get too taken aback. This was all part of the agreement. 

It felt nice to be treated like that, however. How am I gonna find someone like Minho after this deal is over? You thought to yourself as said man steered you towards his practice room. The hand on your back was light but you definitely felt his presence there. His voice could be heard over the multitude of ‘what if’s flying around your head, but you had no idea what he was saying.

“You’re not listening to me.” He chuckled and opened the door for you, stepping in behind you while you looked around. The floor was shiny, all leading up to mirrors on three of the walls. It was weird seeing yourself from all different angles and you had to admit you looked tired.

“To be fair I never listen to you.” You countered against him, a smirk playing on your face as you walked towards the middle of the room. Your appearance stuck out in each of the mirror walls you looked at. There were deep bags under your eyes and you noticed a sense of fatigue hiding behind them. 

“I look like shit.” You laughed, but you weren’t joking. Classes were draining and you could barely recognize yourself in the mirror.

“You look fine, sweetheart.” Minho laughed breathy and exhausted.

You saw Minho in the mirror walk up behind you, his hands rested on your shoulders. Instead of looking him in the eyes through the mirror, you opted to stare at his hands. His fingers dug into your shoulders, thumbs pressing just between your shoulder blades and an immense feeling of relief shot through you.

“Does that help?” He asked, fingers working deeper into your muscles.

It was as if all the stress and fatigue was slowly being lifted off of you as Minho’s hands worked magic. Instead of answering his question, you let out a soft sign followed by a groan, hoping that was an acceptable answer.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Minho laughed and continued like that for a minute. Small groans and sighs of relief were the only thing echoing off the walls. Although it had been more than a minute, it felt like just one second as he slowly stopped massaging you. “I don’t want to overdo it. You should sit down.” He motioned over to the bench in the corner.

As you walked over you took out your Chemistry textbook, “I’m gonna just get some reading done if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. Just having you here makes me feel better.” Minho smiled at you through the mirror. “I hope the music won’t distract you though.”

You shook your head, smiling back at the man in front of you. “No, I should be fine. Go ahead and practice.”

As soon as he turned to the audio machine, busy looking through the computer to find the song, you observed his outfit. He was wearing the baggy black sweatpants tucked into sneakers. Then you noticed his shirt. He was wearing a tank top, the straps resting on his shoulders but were so thin they threatened to slip off.

Music blasted through the studio and you recognized the smooth beats that washed over you. Soft drums hit your ears and you couldn't help but nod your head along as you read your textbook. It was only ten more pages you had to read and then you could curl up in bed and sleep.

You tried to finish reading the page on various chemical reactions but your temptation got the better of you and snuck a glance up at Minho and wow. The dance seemed to edge on the sensual side and you were surprised they weren’t assigned a partner for this. His hips rocked perfectly to the rhythm and you didn’t dare look at his eyes. You had seen him dance before and the look in his eyes when he danced could make any person melt from the sheer passion and determination.

You weren't sure exactly when he had gotten so muscular but you assumed him dedicating his life to dancing helped build them. He wasn’t ripped, per say, but he had just the right amount of muscle to prevent you from teasing him with string bean comments. Not to mention his thighs. The majority of his power resided in his thighs and you knew if you kept thinking about him you would dig yourself a deeper hole.

Somewhere in the trenches of you damn near drooling over Minho, you were startled by the door to the practice room being flung open. A woman dressed in workout shorts and a baggy crop top walks in, eyes following Minho’s movements before landing on you sitting in the far corner of the room.

“I thought I told you only dance students in this building.” The woman raised her voice over the music before finally going and turning it off. “Who is this?” She pointed towards you and you ducked your eyes down in embarrassment.

Minho paused for a moment, thinking of what to say before he finally blurts out, “They’re my significant other.” If you had been eating or drinking anything you’re sure you would have choked, but you tried to keep your composure as he continued, “They were going to work on homework but the library was closed and I offered to let them work here. I’m sorry Mrs. Lee.”

The dance teacher looked between you and Minho, and you decided to try and help the situation. “I’m so sorry. Don’t blame Minho, blame me. I wanted to spend some time with him but we were both busy with homework and I figured this would work. Again, I’m sorry. I won’t come back.” Your voice remained steady as you tried to play into the perception that you and Minho were actually dating. Although with the feelings blooming in you recently it wasn’t hard to act as though you wanted to spend time with him.

A loud sigh escaped her, her face softening slightly. “Ah, young love. I was there once.” You felt your face heat up. “Minho,” she directed her attention towards him, leaving you to observe, “You’re one of the best students in this class. Perhaps I can let this pass, as long as your choreography assignment is up to my expectations.”

“It is!” You smiled up at Mrs. Lee. “I haven’t seen it all but he’s one of the best dancers I know and you won’t be disappointed.” 

She nodded curtly, turning around on her heels and making a swift exit.

As soon as she left, you felt Minho’s eyes on you. You avoided it for as long as you could before you heard Minho say your name. “Yeah?” You replied, looking up at him.

“I hope you're okay with me saying that to Mrs. Lee. If you want I can go tell her we aren’t-”

“No!” You cut him off maybe too quickly. “I mean, I don’t mind it. It’s helping me get experience isn’t it? Being introduced as someone’s significant other.” You didn’t add how much hearing it come from Minho’s mouth made a million sparklers go off in your stomach, nor did you add that now you’ve heard him say it, you never wanted him to stop saying it.

“Okay.” Was all Minho said before motioning towards the computer, the song he was dancing too that was paused by Mrs. Lee waiting to be started again. “I’m gonna practice again.”

You nodded. “Of course. I’m going to try and finish this chapter and then I might head home and hit the hay early.” As you looked into his eyes, you saw the deep bags that mirrored your own. “You should get some sleep too, Min. You look exhausted.”

Minho hesitated, shrugging his shoulders slowly. You could almost see his muscles working overtime just to keep him upright. “I should be fine, sweetheart. Don't worry about me.” He turned around so you could no longer see his face, not even in the mirror in front of you. “Maybe you should just head out and get some sleep. I don't want you to fall asleep in Chemistry tomorrow.”

Confusion flashed across your features as you stood up. You put your textbook in your bag, walking up to Minho and resting your hand on his shoulder. “No.” You spoke sternly, set on making him listen to you. “I refuse to leave unless you’re leaving with me. I don’t like seeing you like this, Min. It hurts me as much as it hurts you.”

Minho knew you like the back of his hand, and he knew you were firm in your statement. You really wouldn't leave until he did. A long sigh escaped his lips, air cascading into the already stuffy dance room.

Instinctively, your other hand raised to his other shoulder, pulling him closer to you. Minho’s muscles relaxed as he loosely wrapped his arms around your waist. His thumbs pressed lightly into your spine and that familiar wave of electricity surged from your head to your toes. 

Hot breath fanned across your neck as Minho nuzzled his head there. It was weird having someone that close to you and it reminded you of just how vulnerable you were. You ran your fingers around his neck to the nape of his head, playing with the small hairs that tickled you.

Sure, you had hugged Minho before, but nothing like this. This was holding someone in one of their darkest moments. This was fearing to speak in fear of reality coming crashing back to you. This was letting your existence speak for itself. This was your soul latching itself onto Minho’s. This was the moment you finally had to admit to yourself. 

I am hopelessly and madly in love with you, Lee Minho. 

After what felt like an eternity you separated yourself from him, but only enough to be able to see his face. “How about we go back to my room and sleep?” You weren’t sure what prompted you to ask that, but right now you didn’t want to be alone.

The corners of Minho’s mouth drooped as he nodded his head yes. In the span of ten minutes he had lost all his energy and you could tell he had been living off energy drinks and coffee. You knew it was hard for you, but you couldn’t imagine what it was like for Minho. Classes where you danced for an hour straight with no breaks, countless hours in the practice rooms forcing your limbs to move in this exact pattern or your whole assignment was ruined. You hated seeing him like this and hoped he would be better at taking care of himself eventually.

“Good. You can worry about your assignment tomorrow, but you need sleep, Min.” You smoothed one side of his messy hair down, heart clenching when Minho leans his head into your hand.

“Okay. Let’s go.” Minho trudged over to the computer, turning it off and unplugging his phone from the USB port. He grabbed his bag off the floor and looked to you sleepily. A hand was extended towards you and you had held hands with Minho before, but this, as did everything else that had happened recently, made you even more vulnerable.

Yet you reached out, your palm meeting Minho’s and your fingers locking together like a zipper. You hadn’t thought about just how well your hands fit with his until a silence washed over you and you were left to your own devices. Maybe your hands were always meant to find each other. Maybe this was fate saying that if the pieces fit together, it was meant to be.

The walk to your room was shrouded in silence, but you couldn’t say that you minded it. There wasn't always a need for words between you and Minho. It was like your minds connected in a way that you've never experienced with anyone else. You always joked you should never play poker together because you could tell when he was lying.

Minho held you close, except when you walked up to your dorm building, when he detached your hand from his and moved to open the door for you. Even now he was treating you like royalty. A small “thank you” left your lips as you entered the chilly front room.

You waited for Minho to walk through the door before you silently grasped his hand again, leading him towards the elevator doors. The woman at the desk watched you two, “You are just the cutest couple!” She whispered to you.

The pang in your chest was back, but you put on a smile and replied. “Thank you so much.”

In the elevator, Minho leaned more into your side. His eyes were open, but you knew he wasn’t fully coherent. He looked drained of all energy and you were scared that you might have to carry him to your room.

“Just a little bit more Min and you can sleep.” You ran your thumb over his hand lightly, smiling when Minho just tightened the grip he had.

As soon as you were in front of your room, you used the hand that wasn’t interlocked with Minho’s to get your keys out of your pocket, unlocking the door and stepping inside. You locked the door behind you, setting the keys on the table next to the door and throwing your bag in front of the couch. 

You pried your hand from Minho’s only to be met with a sound of disapproval. Pulling the bag off of Minho’s shoulder, you gave him his wish and reconnected your hands, leading him to your room. 

It was dark outside, so you turned on the lamp beside your bed, watching as Minho stripped himself of his shirt and looked up at you from beneath his eyelashes. “Did you happen to save any of the clothes I've left at your house back home?”

Digging through your drawer, you're met with a sound of surprise because you knew you kept some of the clothes he’s left over the years, but you didn’t know you had packed them and brought them here when you came to college. You pulled out a pair of shorts that looked like his, holding them up, “Are these okay?”

Minho nods, grabbing the shorts and walking over to the other side of the bed. He doesn't bother telling you to turn around, you're best friends, you've almost seen worse from him.

You didn't think anything of it when he immediately striped himself of his sweatpants, quickly slipping on the pants that were a little bit loose but you knew he was going to fall asleep in a snap so you didn't say anything. You also didn't think anything of it when you pulled out sleep clothes for yourself and began to strip as well. The air conditioning in your room was on full blast and you shivered slightly at the cold air against your skin. You could feel the goosebumps on your skin as you pulled your shirt and pants on, turning around to face the bed once more.

The covers were already pulled back and Minho was sitting up in your bed. His hands were resting on his stomach, fingers interlaced and thumbs tapping another rhythm. He always had that habit, always getting yelled at by teachers for tapping on the desks during tests, always having music in his head that no one else could hear.

You took a moment to admire him before smiling at him, Minho immediately mirroring that smile back to you. He opened his arms, waving both of them as if to beckon you towards him. And it always worked, you knew it would always work because you couldn’t just say no to his tired face and hopeful grin.

Climbing into bed, you moved closer to Minho, hands instinctively going around his waist. It was as if whatever deity was up above heard your thoughts, because now there was no fabric barrier between you and Minho’s torso. Your thumb pressed lightly into his side, massaging circles into whatever skin you could reach.

One of Minho’s hands went to your back and the other one rested on your arm. Sleep immediately started to creep up on you but you snapped out of it when you heard Minho utter a soft apology to you.

You sat up, body feeling cold after moving away from him. “What are you sorry for?” You asked, one of your hands not moving from rubbing circles into his side.

There was a heavy silence in the room and you were scared of what would come next. What if he wants to stop this, whatever this is. What if something is wrong? 

“I’m sorry I haven't been able to treat you how you should be treated, I just wanted to show you what it was like to be treated right.” Minho’s eyes bore into your own and although you saw fatigue, you also saw a sense of sadness.

“Don’t apologize, Min. Everything you do tells me how I should be treated. You don’t have to be there for me 24/7 for me to know you are an amazing person.” You leaned forward, moving your hands to cup his cheeks. They were cold and you felt goosebumps rise on your arms. Your thumbs moved across his cheekbones and you watched as Minho closed his eyes. “Anyone would be lucky to have you as their boyfriend.”

You pulled the covers up, grabbing Minho by the shoulders and urging him to move down. “I know that once you get some sleep, you’ll feel better in the morning, okay?” You didn’t wait for him to confirm your statement and that was the last you saw of his face, because you opted for cuddling closer to him. The hand that was previously on his waist returned, your head finding purchase as it did before.

Your nose pressed into the junction of his shoulder and neck, the scent that could only be described by the name Minho much stronger now that there wasn’t any fabric in the way. “I like you just the way you are. And what you are is the best best friend I could ever ask for.”

The last thing you remember before sleep overcame you was a soft pressure on your forehead in what you could only guess was Minho’s lips, followed by him whispering. “Goodnight sweetheart.”

vi. 

Since that night two weeks ago, Minho had taken to sleeping over every night.

Not that you were complaining, no, you could never complain about having your best friend and newly discovered crush (was it just a crush at this point, though?) holding you like you were fine china every night. In fact, you would rather have him there with you as opposed to waking up every morning to cold air and an empty kitchen.

Now, waking up to an empty bed was unusual. So when you opened your eyes and found your arms clutching empty air you were confused.

Checking your clock on the bedside table you saw you had an hour until Chemistry (getting the email yesterday that your English Lit class was canceled for today was a blessing) and while you debated going back to sleep wishing Minho was with you, you also were curious if he was still here.

By now you had memorized his schedule, knowing he didn't have class until later in the afternoon, so the only explanation was that he had gone to the practice room. You didn’t blame him, since that night Minho had made it his mission to walk you back to your dorm after your last class of each day. Sometimes he would go back to practice and sometimes he would just gently guide you to bed, tracing patterns on your back until you fell asleep.

You knew you were in deep and you knew it would hurt when all of this eventually stopped but for now you wanted to enjoy the way Minho said your name paired with “sweetheart”, or the way he would hold you tight but not enough to hurt you.

The smell of something cooking snapped you out of your thoughts and you pulled the covers back, feet softly sliding across the carpeted floor. You silently stood in the doorway and watched as the small stove burner was bright red. A pan sat on the burner with a pale yellow scrambled egg in it.

From this angle you could only see Minho’s back and the way his shoulder muscles rippled under his skin as he messed with the pans and plates in front of him. He looked handsome. But not in the handsome that everyone else saw. Everyone saw the dancer, the student, the friend, the guy that walked into a room and just his presence drew attention. Yes, you saw that as well, but you also saw the vulnerability, the chivalry, the deepest parts of Lee Minho that he never showed to anyone else.

That made you fall even more in love with him.

Just as you were about to interrupt the silence, Minho turned around, breaking the silence on his own. “Hey.” He said, holding up the newly made plate of eggs and bacon.

“Goodmorning, Min.” You smiled, walking towards the small table and sitting down.

“I made breakfast. I figured you could eat and then I could walk you to class.” Minho explained as he set the plate down, putting another plate in front of himself as he sat opposite to you.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” You replied, already starting to eat. 

You both sat in a comfortable silence until you both had finished, leaving you to get ready for class while Minho got ready to walk you there. 

As soon as you had finished getting ready you grabbed your bag and checked your phone. Ten minutes. You had ten minutes to get to class and you knew it would be busy as a lot of classes started and stopped around this time.

“Shit, we gotta go, Min. I don’t want to be late.” You grabbed your keys, quickly locking your door and grabbing Minho’s hand. At this point it was by impulse that you grabbed it and you were glad that he didn’t mind.

Before you could walk far, Minho stopped in the hall, making you turn around and face him. He grabbed your bag, slinging it over his own shoulder and smiling at you as he started walking again.

The walk there seemed like an eternity but that was only because you felt the weight of Minho’s hand in yours. In a particularly large crowd of people, Minho opted for a hand resting on your lower back so he didn’t lose you and could stay close, but when your hand was in his, you felt like you were in your own bubble. It was like nothing could affect you when you were next to him.

As you approached your classroom, you saw Chan standing at the doorway. It was weird, he never did that, opting instead to start on whatever experiment you had for the day. 

His eyes caught yours in the crowd of people and they lit up. He lifted his hand to wave but his eyes wandered down to your hand that was clasped in Minho’s and his large smile lowered slightly.

“Shit.” You said, looking over at Minho who had a frown on his face.

Before you could say anything else, Minho released your hand, your bag sliding off his shoulder and finding your arms. “I’m gonna go to class. Have a good day, Y/N.” There was a melancholy tone to his voice that made you want to say something but before you knew it you had lost him in the crowd of people.

“Hey.” You said softly to Chan as you stood in front of him.

He smiled at you but you could tell it wasn’t as wide as it normally was. “Hey!”

You followed him into the room, looking at the front table where the ingredients for the days lab would be but instead seeing the teacher sitting there. On the board behind him were the big words NO LAB. LECTURE DAY. 

“Oh great.” You groaned, setting your textbook down at your table and sitting down. 

Chan sat next to you, his hands clasped in his lap as he stared down at his book. “So who was that?” 

You knew he was referring to Minho, and you were thinking of exactly what you should say. If you said he was your boyfriend, you might not get the opportunity to date Chan but if you said he was your best friend, you could still have a chance. Through the last month, you knew just where your feelings were and you didn’t hesitate to answer him.

“That’s my boyfriend.”

His face registered shock and what you could only pinpoint as disappointed. You wished you could lie and say you wanted to be with Chan but for the second time in that month you had to admit it to yourself. You loved Minho.

“Oh, okay.” Chan nodded, looking up at the whiteboard. There was a moment of silence before he seemed to snap back to his normal cheery self. “Lecture days were specifically made by the devil himself.”

At that comment, you were back to clutching your stomach and doubling over in laughter. You quickly agreed, looking to the front of the room and seeing the teacher giving you a disapproving look. Not realizing class had started, you made a motion of zipping your mouth shut, turning to Chan and seeing him do the same.

As the lecture went on, you scribbled notes down and found yourself thinking about Minho. Yeah, Chan made you laugh and he was a dorky type of handsome that made you want to sit down and listen to his lame jokes all day long. 

But Minho.. Lee Minho. He was the guy who watched you embarrass yourself in front of the whole school accepting an award in high school. He was the guy who held you tight when you cried about getting rejected by your first crush. He was the guy that told you you could do anything and everything that came to your mind. He was the guy who promised he would always be by your side through anything.

“Let’s talk about the chemistry of love.” The teacher’s voice faded back into your head, and you were intrigued to know more. “Most people don’t know that love is a chemical equation. I will go into more detail in a later lesson but the basic combination is dopamine, serotonin and oxytocin.”

You found yourself furiously scribbling everything down, hanging off his every word and worrying you were missing something. To your right, you felt Chan’s eyes focused on your face and you wanted to turn to him but you were too busy fixating on what the teacher was saying.

“Dopamine is released in the process of picking a mate and following the release of dopamine comes oxytocin, also known as the cuddle hormone. Just the simple gesture of holding someone’s hand releases oxytocin and causes a sense of attraction and what chemists then call ‘love’. Eventually, once the honeymoon phase is over chemically, meaning your body develops a tolerance to these chemicals, endorphins are released.” The teacher had his back turned, quickly writing down the full chemical compositions of these chemicals, but when he finished his sentence he slowly faced the class.

“Endorphins cause a feeling of comfort. It’s the feeling of being safe in someone’s presence, like you know they would do anything for you and vice versa.” He sat his uncapped marker on the lab table and proceeded to walk around the class, looking at every student he passed. He was silent, watching everyone (including you) try and write everything he said down.

As soon as he made his way back to his table, he began to speak again. “That, my wonderful students, is love.” There was a moment of silence before he smiled. “I will see you next week.”

You didn’t say goodbye to Chan when you left the classroom, knowing that seeing his face anymore would only make your chest ache.

Walking back to your dorm felt empty without Minho by your side. You wondered if he was busy with homework or class, deciding not to worry too much and instead thinking back to the lecture you just sat through.

The way Minho treated you for the past month had butterflies erupting in your stomach from holding your hand, carrying your books, the constant touches and the way he would follow every other sentence with “sweetheart”. You found yourself melting and constantly telling him that whomever he dated must feel like royalty.

But you also knew that even before this deal, the way Minho hugged you didn’t make you feel nervous or sweaty palmed, it made you feel safe. Whenever Minho walked into a room you felt your shoulders untense and a smile slip its way onto your face. 

To you, Minho was home. He was the one you would go to with anything. He was the one that came to you with anything. You've helped him with relationship problems despite your lack of experience. He’s helped you with gym class and the history lessons you couldn’t seem to grasp.

You had been in love with Minho for a long time, yet you only seemed to notice it now.

Through your thinking you found your way to your room, unlocking it and slipping in. You went through the normal routine of setting your bag down in front of the couch, grabbing a water bottle and taking out your notebook. 

Looking around, however, you noticed the surprising lack of clothes. Minho was a mess sometimes, leaving his shirts or socks on the floor, but there was not one trace of his clothes in sight. Everything looked sparkly clean, in fact, and there wasn’t any trace of Minho ever having been there.

You knew he had a spare key to your dorm and figured he just cleaned up a bit but the feeling of everything being a bit too clean couldn't be erased from your mind. 

Deciding to call him to make sure everything was okay, you grabbed your phone. You saw Minho’s smiling face staring back as you tried to unlock your phone. Minho had taken a selfie and set it as your lock screen, and you made no protest, happy to be able to see his smiling face every time you wanted to unlock your phone.

He answered on the fifth ring. “Hey.” He said quietly and you were confused at his severe lack of energy.

“Are you okay, Min?” You asked him, hearing shuffling on the other side along with loud chatter of what you could only assume was students.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just on my way to class.” Minho’s voice sounded more than tired, it sounded sad.

“No, you’re not fine. I can tell.” When Minho didn’t answer you, you continued talking. “Whatever it is, you should talk about it. How about after your class? Come by my dorm, okay?”

There was a long sigh on the other line and you were worried he would decline your request but relief washed over you when he said, “Okay. I’ll see you then. Bye, Y/N.”

When you hung up, you decided to bury yourself in reading pages, trying not to think about the fact that he called you by your name, something he hadn’t done much if at all in the last month.

vii.

A knock at your door startled you off your textbook, realizing that you fell asleep with your face resting on it. You wondered who it was, knowing Minho had a key and could just let himself in.

So you were surprised to open up the door and see Minho standing there. He was wearing what he normally did after a shower, baggy sweatpants and a tank top, his hair still slightly damp and shining. For two weeks he had opted for taking a shower at your place, so why didn’t he do it now?

“Hey. Why didn’t you let yourself in?” You asked him, walking back towards the couch and closing your textbook, trying not to think of the small drool patch staining the periodic table.

Minho shrugged, his head dipping and eyes trailing on the ground. As he walked in he made sure to close and lock your door, knowing how paranoid you got. He didn’t look at you and you felt an empty feeling when he sat opposite to you on the couch, the farthest he could be.

“What’s wrong, Min? You’re worrying me.” You tried to move closer to him, putting a hand on top of his but he just pulled back, clasping his hands in his lap.

“I’m sorry.” Minho looked at you for the first time that night and you didn’t feel the warmth you normally did. There weren’t any bags under his eyes. Rather, it was like a dark cloud over his head. Before you could say anything, he interjected. “So how is Chan? Did he ask about me?”

Your stomach turned and you weren’t sure how to tell Minho you called him your boyfriend. Instead, you opted for a silent nod.

“What did you say?” Minho asked and you knew there was no way getting out of it.

“I, uh, I said you were my boyfriend.”

Silence. You felt like you wanted the couch to swallow you up.

“I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have done this.” Minho shakes his head, eyes falling back down to his clasped hands.

Your stomach sunk, not knowing how to respond. At this point, you just wanted to save your friendship because you knew you couldn’t take Minho no longer speaking to you. You tried to stutter out a response but all you got out was a mixture of “Um”s and “Uh”s.

“I’m sorry.” Minho apologized again and you stopped him before he said anything else.

“No. Don't apologize. I don’t feel that way about Chan anymore.” Although it felt like a dagger to your heart, you leaned back, farther away from Minho. “It’s not your fault Minho. If anything it’s mine.”

“Don’t say that Y/N.” Minho shook his head. “It’s my fault for letting my feelings cloud my judgement. I know it would hurt me more than help, but I wanted to express to you just how much I love you.”

Silence again, but this time you felt a spark in your stomach, warmth spread to the tips of your toes and fingers. I love you. Did he mean it like you did?

“I love you too.” You weren’t sure if you meant to say it or if your heart had a mind of its own. “I mean, I have for a long time but I think it took me a while to admit it.”

Minho looked up at you again, eyebrows disappearing behind his long fringe. His mouth hung open. “Really?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t think you felt the same but I wanted to be selfish and feel what everyone else that dated you felt. I wanted to feel loved that way.” Pausing, you asked a question that had you curious. “But if you weren’t sure I felt the same way why did you propose this idea anyways?”

“I’ve always loved you that way.” Minho moved closer to you and you felt the warmth slowly overtake your senses. “I wanted to be selfish too. I wanted to hold you like a boyfriend would and treat you like how you deserved. I just wanted to help you find someone, whether that be me or not was up to you.”

As soon as you got close enough, you reached out and cupped his cheeks with both your hands. His skin wasn’t so cold anymore, it made warmth radiate from your fingertips. “I would always choose you, Min. Always.”

Your knees knocked into Minho’s as he moved closer, and you were forced to remove your hands from his face. His nose almost touched yours and you swore you could see the entire galaxy in his eyes.

You smiled, a genuine eye-crinkling smile and Minho’s face mirrored your own. You weren't sure how his hands ended up on your waist, but you welcomed them there. His eyes searched yours, occasionally flicking to your lips. You moved your hands to his shoulders, thumbs running along his collarbones.

It seemed like an eternity before he asked you the one question you had been hoping to hear since the beginning of this idea of his.

“Can I kiss you?”

You did nothing but nod, closing your eyes and gasping when his lips finally met yours. They were slightly cold but you didn’t mind. Your hands raised to his neck, pulling him closer. Your knees hit together again but you couldn’t care less when Minho was kissing you like you were going to slip away.

Your lips moved together lightly, only leaving enough space for your breaths to mingle together in the air between you. Minho’s hand slowly traveled up your torso, stopping at your neck for him to run his thumbs along your jaw. Everything was so intimate and although you’ve only had few people to compare it to, Minho was the best kisser you had ever known.

Time seemed to halt when Minho’s hands finally settled on your cheeks and it felt like he was trying to pull you closer and if you had gotten any closer the line between you and Minho would blur. You wanted to be as close as you could to him, feel the heat from your head to your toes but right now all you felt was Minho’s soft lips moving softly against your own.

When Minho moved his lips again, tilting his head even more and letting you find a more comfortable rhythm, you smiled into the kiss. He tasted like peppermint and everything you ever could have imagined. You felt him smile against your lips as well and were forced to pull away.

“I could spend forever kissing you, sweetheart.” Minho smiled, the familiar feeling of his fingers tapping a rhythm on your waist making the warmth in you heighten.

You were breathless, but you mirrored his sentiment with a whispered. “Me too.”

There were a few beats of silence in which you threaded your fingers into his still dewy hair. Under his stare you felt nothing but comfort and love for your best friend sitting before you.

His eyes lit up even more. “I have an idea.”

You raised your eyebrows, ready to hear just exactly what he had in mind.

“Well, you’ve never been in a relationship. So why don’t I change that?” Minho’s cheeks were tinted red and he took his bottom lip in his teeth.

“You mean like real dating?” You were reminded of a month ago when he had asked you if you wanted to try out that little idea of his. But now you get the real thing.

“I guess? I didn’t think this far.” His smirk told you everything and you felt your face heat up. You chuckled, fingers carding through his hair before resting back onto his shoulders.

You didn’t need another moment to think of your answer.

“Sure. Let’s do it.”

viii.

Perhaps your Chemistry teacher was right, there was an equation for love going on in your brain as you laid in Minho's arms in your bed. He had already fallen asleep but you found yourself unable to stop smiling against his bare neck. His scent flooded your nose and you decided on another name for it. Home.

You felt safe. You felt like you could conquer the world as long as Minho was by your side. You knew no one would be able to make you feel the way Minho did as you felt his fingers slowly tapping against your waist. Soft snores came from above your head and you found your eyelids drooping. Minho’s heartbeat was the best lullaby as you drifted off to sleep.

Everyone had their own love equation and you knew yours.

seratonin + dopamine + oxytocin + endorphins = Lee Minho.

[crystal-snowing]

fluffy bf felix hc???!💕✨ily! Like you did w minho

a/n: hi guys, senior year has literally been eating me alive but i’m back and this whole corona online learning has been giving me a bunch of free time to focus on writing again, so stay tuned for some longer fics and requests coming your way ! i’m sorry this took so long and i hope you enjoy !

you guys had been best friends since childhood and it felt only natural for the two of you to end up together. 

you both had known each other when you were young children, and were the closest of friends until you had to move away because your father had gotten a job opportunity in another country. 

of course you both did your best in order to keep in contact, but you both were so young and the difference in time zones didn’t really help, which caused the both of you to lose contact. 

it wasn’t until a few years later did felix find himself in that country and did he find himself staring at the most gorgeous person that he has ever seen, did he realize that it was you. 

and damn could he say that puberty hit you like a freight train. 

it was pretty much love at first sight, and as soon as the two of you became best friends again—it was all over for him. 

his confession was kind of sporadic and all over the place, and honestly kind of an accident. 

the two of you were casually walking home from school, a little later than normal since you had attended a study session straight after school, and you were both just chatting about your day before he blurted those three words that made your heart race. 

“i like you.”

and while he was completely embarrassed and mortified in the moment, he knew that he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

spontaneous dates is a must with felix, his schedule is pretty unpredictable and whatever time he isn’t spending practicing, touring, or hanging out with his members, he’s with you. 

he often shows up at your apartment late at night, and most of the time it’s kind of a struggle to try and sneak him in without waking up your parents. 

movie dates !! the two of you enjoy snuggling underneath the covers watching the crappiest romantic comedies on netflix and eating a bunch of junk. 

this night usually ends with late night talks, the two of you chatting about the most obscure things before ultimately falling asleep in each other’s arms. 

“would you rather spend eternity in hell with me or in heaven without me?” 

“lee felix, are you trying to flirt with me at 3:30 in the morning?” 

“just answer the question babe!” 

however, whenever he had a day off he made sure that he could take you out somewhere more romantic than just chilling in your bedroom.

this also included the fact that felix just loved to spoil you, and all of the time you would find the most random gifts placed around your apartment always attached with a loving note that read “this reminded me of you.” 

the han river, fancy restaurant, picnics in the park—anywhere that you wanted to go he would always find a way to make it happen.

this boy is very clingy and whenever he couldn’t be with you in person he was constantly blowing up your phone with selfies of him or the other boys. 

“make sure you tell changbin to keep his distance or i think i might get a bit jealous.”

“i promise, i only use him to cuddle when you’re not here, love,” felix laughs. 

and when the two of you are together, you can bet that his hand never leaves your body. 

whether it be holding your hand, the small of your back, linking your arms together, or wrapping one arm around your waist, this boy always needed to be touching you in some way. 

this also meant that pda was a must, but it was often hard to hide this side of himself from the paparazzi who were eager to have any kind of bad press on him and the rest of stray kids. 

it often got tiring trying to sneak around and hide his greatest happiness from stay and the rest of the world, but as much as he wished that he could show you off to everyone, he knew that it was unfair to the rest of stray kids.

instead, he made sure to shower you in affection away from the public eye, making sure that you understood that he adored you to the moon and back. 

“hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, guess what [y/n]?” 

“yes, felix?” 

“i love you.”

[straykidsscribbles]

Little Red Robbing Hood

Summary: Best thief in your generation. Heiress to a powerful mafia family. And kind of, on and off best friend to one Seo Changbin, who knows you way too well.

Fairytale AU, based on Little Red Riding Hood; Mafia Au; Female reader; Fluff with the lightest hint of angst 

Genre: Seo Changbin x reader 

Word Count: 11,878 words

Warnings: Violence, profanity, and a bit of blood. 

Happy very belated birthday to her majesty Queen Ruby @changbeanie, I adore you to the stars and back again.

“The line’s secure. You’re free to jump, Red.” 

A small smirk crept over your lips as you took a few quick steps away from the edge of the open window. This would be the easiest heist you’d ever pulled. Pride always goes before a fall. If they wanted to keep such a pretty, pretty painting, they should have guarded it better. 

“Thought you’d never give me the all clear Black.” 

“Oh, you know me, triple checking the wire that’s holding up your whole weight. Your grandmother would murder me if I let you die Red.” 

“She has faith in my skills. You’re just the worry wart.” 

A deep breath. 

In. 

Out. 

You took off, legs pumping until you hit the edge of the window and soared out into the air, nothing between you and the ground.

Nothing that is, except for the wire attached to the climbing harness you wore. 

The wire jerked as it took your weight and stabilized, over five hundred feet in the air. You swung around and grabbed hold of it with your right hand. Tapping the goggles protecting your eyes, you scanned the wall in front of you. 

The goggles immediately flashed, and a number popped up in the corner. 

43. Perfect. 

“Black, I’m good to go. You can get the engine running for me.” 

“Copy Red. Driver’s seat for you?” 

“Well, you do have good taste in wheels. Why not? Now shut up and let me concentrate.” A plate of inch thick glass stood between you and the security system protecting your target. It was the first obstacle in your route to the final piece of Van Gogh’s Wheat Field with Cypresses left in private collections. 

The other two would be easy to steal; museum security was nothing to a professional thief. This one required a little more finesse, which is why you were tasked with the job. 

“I didn’t know master thieves needed to concentrate. You were born into the mafia; weren’t you stealing your dad’s gold cufflinks off his suits for fun at four?” 

Who had even told him that story? You gritted your teeth as a gust of wind buffeted you. This was not the time for distractions; the glass cutter in your hand was sharp enough to cut off a finger if you weren’t careful, and you weren’t in the mood to be bleeding all over whichever fancy car your partner picked out for you. 

“If I lose a finger because of you I will make you pamper me for my entire convalescence,” you hissed, the sensitive microphone on your earpiece catching your words over the rushing of the wind. He really just does not know when to shut up does he? 

Your partner simply hummed in response, clearly abiding by your request for silence. You bit your lip as the glass cutter made its way back around and completed cutting out a circle from the window. 

Slipping the glass cutter into a pocket on your belt, you pushed off from either side of the little circle. Your body swung out into the air, suspended only by the wire disappearing into the open window a few floors above. Like a pendulum you swung back, legs out and braced to hit the glass. 

A surprisingly soft tinkle of glass shards filled your ears as you fell into the room. Taking a few steps forward to maintain your balance, you pivoted in the center of the room. No one in here with me, both sides clear. Looks like our intel was right. 

“I’m in. Give me three minutes to make the switch and drop it down to you.” 

“Yes Red.” 

You padded over to the wall looming at your right, dim lighting making the painting hanging on it glow softly. “You are one elusive little picture aren’t you.” You whispered as you unclipped the large frame that hung from your hip. 

Small metal discs imbedded in the wall where the bottom two corners of the painting were resting acted as pressure sensors. Once the painting was removed, you’d only have five seconds to press the other one in place at exactly the same pressure. Even the slightest millipascal of extra pressure and alarms would fill the entire building. 

Still, you were the best thief in your generation for a reason. Some of it was genetics and family talent, yes, but the rest of it? Pure skill and practice.

Light fingers swept over the beautiful canvas, tracing the edge of the frame as you took one quick breath. Then, in the space of a heartbeat you pushed the edge of the Van Gogh away from the wall and onto the ground, cushioning its fall with your left toe. With your right hand you slipped the replacement frame, carefully measured to be the exact same weight and size, into place. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. 

Your heartbeat was racing in your ears, but you still heard the slight click of the pressure plates locking back into place, as though absolutely nothing had happened. 

A slow smirk spread over your lips, one sharp canine digging into your lip as you bent down to pick up the painting and slide it into a carrying case. You’d be gone before they even realized anything was missing. 

You sauntered back over to the open window, shoes making only the slightest crunch as you stepped on the shattered remains of the windowpane. Reclipping the harness, you tapped a button on the winch and let it yank you upwards. 

This is the best feeling in the world. The thought came to your mind unbidden, but the more you considered it the more you realized it was true. The wind rushing through your hair, the exhilaration of a successful mission, the adrenaline of an escape waiting for you–this was the life you were meant for. 

“Black, target acquired. My car better be ready.” 

“I knew you’d get it. And please Red, when have I ever let you down. Your car is waiting downstairs, the valet has the key. And I’m up on the roof to get rid of anyone who might try to follow you.” 

You slipped into the open window of your own suite and began untangling yourself from the harness, pushing everything back into a small black suitcase. “Thanks Black.” 

“Only the best for you Red. Can’t wait for our next date.” 

“Me neither. Always a pleasure working with you. Red out.”

You pulled out the earpiece and squished it between two fingers before burying it inside a tiny house plant resting on the desk. The tech would degrade and disappear within a few hours, leaving no trace of your whereabouts, and nothing the police could gain any evidence from. 

Suitcase in one hand, painting in the other, you swept out of the suite and down to the bottom floor, where the car your partner had promised you was waiting. The sleek black Audi shone in the light from the lobby’s chandelier and you suppressed a little sigh. 

He really does have good taste in cars. 

Taking the keys from the valet, you slipped into the driver’s seat and sped off towards the airport. 

Mission accomplished. 

---

Four hours later, the unfortunate owner of Wheat Field with Cypresses reentered his suite only to find glass on the floor and an entirely different painting sitting in the middle of the wall. 

Four stark red letters on a plain black background stood out as the man stared in horror. 

L R R H

Little Red Robbing Hood. 

He’d been robbed. 

---

“Mother, it’s too early for this!” you grumbled as you picked up the phone lying next to your bed. “I just gave you the painting yesterday!”  

“Yes, well, this can’t wait. I have another assignment for you.”

You sat up and rubbed your eyes tiredly. The planning for the painting heist had taken ages, and you were completely ready to just sleep for the whole day. 

Unfortunately, your mother had other ideas. 

“Lately, NCT has been gathering far too much power. They’ve set up different accounts all over the world to split up their finances and make sure that no matter what happens they have something to fall back on.” 

“What does that matter to us? We’re way stronger than they are.” 

“____, what have I always told you? Overconfidence is why so many mafia families fall. We know better than that–it’s why we’re so powerful years after our contemporaries died off.” 

Your family had started their network almost three hundred years ago, and every other mafia family from that time had slowly lost their power or been absorbed into a new family that rose up and took them over. Yours had survived because of their adaptability and attention to minutiae–no detail was unimportant enough to overlook. 

When most of the other mafia families had been patriarchal, yours had become matriarchal when your great-grandfather only had a daughter. Rather than bringing someone in from outside, he trained his daughter to keep the traditions of the family alive. 

Others had scoffed, saying there was no way a woman could handle the day to day running of the mess of madness, backstabbing, and treachery that was the underground crime network. But your grandmother had thrived in it, and your mother after her. 

And now here you were, best thief of your generation and heir apparent. 

Adaptability and meticulousness. That was what kept your family alive and in power. 

That and a few carefully placed assassinations, take overs, and thefts when necessary. All for the greater good of course. 

“Alright fine Mother, what do you need me to do?” 

“Well, after your little painting heist this should be easy enough for you. There’s going to be a tradeoff with information regarding the accounts and plans of NCT in Singapore. I want you to be there for that tradeoff.” 

“And I take the information, which I’m assuming is on some sort of flash drive?” 

“Yes. If you somehow manage to cause a little dissent within their ranks and make it seem like they betrayed each other, well, so much the better. From Singapore, you have a flight straight to Rome, and then from Rome to London where you will deliver the information to your grandmother. She’s expecting you in five days.” 

“When is the tradeoff?” 

“At nine pm, near the Elgin Bridge. You’ll see them.” 

“Alright Mother. I’ll check in once I have the drive.” 

---

The flight to Singapore had been short, and the use of your family’s private jet certainly had made things easier. You were completely prepped and ready to go; touristy outfit to blend with the crowd, tiny stun gun hidden in your pocket, and a set of earrings that could be pinched together to act as a miniature explosive. 

Gadgets were a bit of a weakness for you. But they had saved your life on numerous occasions, so could you really be blamed? 

You scanned the crowd, looking around for anyone who might seem out of place. No one yet, maybe I’m early. 

You dug through your bag, pulling out a large camera with a zoom lens; naturally, it would look as though you were just taking pictures when in fact you were watching the area under the bridge for suspicious activity. 

Ten minutes passed without anything happening, and you were beginning to feel a little nervous. Had your mother’s intel been wrong? Had someone set you up? The rushed timing had ensured you came without backup; what if this was an ambush?

And then, you saw two men standing at the edge of the bridge, hands held protectively over their waists where presumably they had guns hidden away. 

You rolled your eyes. This is almost too easy. 

One of the men began walking towards the middle of the bridge, where a third man in a black suit stood, a briefcase leaning against the railing of the bridge. You watched carefully through the zoom lens as the third man shook hands with the first, slipping him the small flash drive. 

Target acquired. Now for a little pickpocketing. 

The first man walked back towards his companion, slipping the flash drive into a pocket without pausing. You put away your camera and began walking towards them as well, hands swinging carelessly as though you were simply enjoying the fresh air and light breeze after a humid day of sightseeing. 

Three. 

Two.

One. 

You brushed against your target, slipping your fingers gently into his pocket and slowly withdrawing them, the flash drive tucked into the palm of your hand. You kept walking naturally, hands swinging still, before you passed through a crowd of tourists which blocked you from view. 

Time to disappear. You slipped the tiny yet extremely valuable piece of metal into a side pocket and twisted your jacket inside out so that the red lining was now on the outside. If anyone was looking for a thief in a black and white jacket, they’d never think it was you. 

However, you didn’t see the third man watching from his side of the bridge. The flash of red from your jacket caught his eye and he stared as you made your way over to the nearest bus stop and clambered onto the first bus that passed. 

He couldn’t be sure, but there was something very familiar about you. 

Familiar, and suspicious. 

---

“Hi mom, I picked up a nice new silver mirror for you! I’m on my way to the airport now actually, so I should be on the flight home really soon.” You started speaking before your mother could, making sure that it was obvious you were out in public. 

“Alright ____, thank you. What time is your flight leaving again?” Or rather, do you know what flight you’re taking?

“No, actually, can you check? I think the flight number is CP753.” 

“Oh, you’re leaving at 9:43. If you need anything just call me okay?” 

“I will Mother. See you soon!” You tapped your phone and ended the call. Your mother had set up a flight whose number ended in 943. The time of departure would be easy enough to find out when you arrived at the airport. All you had to do was pick up your things from the airport storage you’d left your suitcase in. 

The familiar routine of heading to the airport, getting your things, and finding your flight on the large tv screens mounted on the wall slowly lulled you into a false sense of security. Everything appeared to be completely normal. The crowded airport was no more empty than usual; there were at least two families and three business executives headed towards the same terminal as you–you couldn’t see anything wrong.

But you couldn’t ignore the chill heading up your spine as you waited for your sandwich at one of the airport bistros. Something inside you, some sixth sense, some weird feeling made you feel like there was someone watching you. 

A malevolent presence, hovering at the edge of your awareness. 

Maybe we shouldn’t have rushed, even if it was important. Maybe we should have waited for a better opportunity, or better backup. 

Paying for your sandwich you grabbed the handle of your suitcase and pulled it after you, continuing the trek to your gate. 

There was no point in worrying now. If someone was following you, they knew where you were headed by now. The only thing you could do was wait and try and lose them in Rome. 

I hope I’m wrong. 

---

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re going through a little bit of turbulence here. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.” The voice of one of the air hostesses rang out over the speakers. 

You wiped your hands with a paper towel and pushed open the door to the tiny bathroom, making your way slowly down the narrow aisle back to your seat. A loud popping noise broke the silence as the little seatbelt light came on, and it woke up a small baby in the middle row. 

Great. Now I have to deal with a noisy crying baby on top of everything. 

As you brushed past a seat, the man sitting there looked up and his eyes met yours.

A shiver ran up your spine. The look in his eyes was malevolent, cruel, utterly heartless. The man had dead eyes, and the little smile curling the edge of his lips could only mean trouble for you.

Why else would someone like that show up on your flight? A million thoughts racing through your mind, you settled back into your seat and pulled the blanket they’d given you closer to you. 

35,000 feet in the air, what else could you do besides wait. Wait and wait and wait and wait for something to happen. 

Behind you, the baby hiccupped and sobbed loudly. Nausea rose in your throat as the plane rolled, sending your stomach through a whirlwind. 

And now I’m ready to throw up. Wonderful. How the fuck do I live with this? You rubbed the inside of your wrist, trying to force the awful feeling to recede. 

Only partially successful, you settled further into your seat. Right now, you just wanted to get off this plane before someone stuck a knife between your ribs. 

---

The second you stepped off the plane in Rome you knew your earlier feeling had been right. There was someone following you, and it was the terrifying man who’s smile had so unnerved you earlier. 

Oh crap why did this have to happen to me? What do I do how the fuck do I get out of this I have no back up and literally no supplies except for what’s on me. ____, good luck getting out of this you’re in really deep trouble this time. 

You saw a small sign for a restroom up ahead and you immediately took a deep breath and ducked inside. Fingers slightly shaky after the long flight, you pulled out your phone and immediately dialed your mother’s number. 

Four rings later, she picked up, voice clipped with irritation. “Yes ____, what’s wrong? I’m extremely busy right now, things have gotten crazy all over east Asia.” 

“Some of that might be my fault. Because I didn’t have backup or more time to prepare, I wasn’t able to make sure things were secure. 

The silence on the phone was deafening. You cringed a little as you waited for your mother’s response. While you were one of the most dangerous individuals in the criminal underworld, your mother was still more dangerous, and you hated disappointing her. 

“Well. This can’t be helped. Are you in Rome now ____?”

“Yes.” You tapped your foot on the tiled floor, waiting for her response. 

“Alright, one of our best wolves is in Athens right now. He’ll meet you at the Trevi Fountain tonight. You need to make sure you are staying in public spaces and being as unobtrusive as possible. Join a tour group and stay with them, blend in with the thousands of other tourists and appear as normal as you can.” 

“Don’t worry Mother, I’m not hopeless.” Already you felt a little better now that you knew you had backup coming and no one blamed you for your little mistake. The weight on your shoulders felt a great deal lighter, less overwhelming now that you had a plan. 

“I know you aren’t. But a mother worries no matter how capable and smart her daughter is.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. Your mother cared about you, yes, but the mafia life wasn’t really the best place for touchy-feely displays of affection. Things must be really bad; that’s why she’s being so uncharacteristically soft. 

“You’ll recognize the wolf on sight, you worked with him on your last mission. He is the only one you can trust at this point alright?” 

Wolves were the secondary leaders in the mafia, right underneath the hereditary leaders like you and your family. They were given the title of wolf once they had proven themselves as loyal protectors and skilled fighters, much like actual wolves. They led in every situation not important enough to require the attention of one of the family, and they were the ones responsible for making sure your family was always safe. 

They were the most loyal operatives, their clan ties to yours stretching back to when your family was first making a name for themselves. 

And this particular wolf was the person you trusted most outside of your immediate family. Having him as a partner again would make everything easier, and you wouldn’t even have to worry about dealing with an unknown player. 

He’s trustworthy and… safe. Always safe. 

“Yes Mother. It’ll be nice to see Black again.” 

“At this point, no codenames as well. Use your real names; someone might have overheard your codenames and your real names are safer. You’re simply ____ to him, and he’s Changbin to you.”

Well. This would be interesting. No more Red jokes. He’s been calling me that for years, it’ll be weird not to hear it. 

“Understood. I’ll check in once we meet.” 

“Only by text ____. You cannot afford to call me again, even now you don’t know who could be listening. Changbin will have access to some supplies for you to restock, and you will have to make your own way to your grandmother, is that understood?”

“Yes Mother. As you wish.” 

“Good luck ____. Stay safe.” 

The phone clicked off before you had a chance to say anything else. 

You shoved the phone inside your bag. As things stood now, you couldn’t afford to get rid of it; you didn’t have the resources to replace it, even if it was a security risk. 

Placing your palms on the cool stone sink you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Dark circles rimmed your eyes, the result of the long sleepless flight and the constant fear that someone was watching you. Even now, inside the bathroom, your shoulders were tense with anxiety. 

What if I don’t last until Black– Changbin– comes? You had to remind yourself that your old color codenames were not to be used. Years ago, you’d decided on those nicknames as a group with a few of your fellow younger agents, each of you picking a color for a heist in Switzerland. The names had stuck long after that mission, and not using them would definitely take a little effort. 

Still, you liked the sound of Changbin’s real name. Using it felt somewhat more intimate than using his codename; many of your friends knew his codename but only those closest to him knew his real name. 

“Come on ____, you got this. You’re the best thief of your generation you can damn well make it to a rendezvous.” Splashing some cold water on your face, you tightened your hands into fists. 

Someone might be after you, but if they expected to get you easily, they were just about to be proven grievously wrong. 

---

Soft sounds of someone strumming a guitar filled the night air as you sat on the cool marble of the Trevi Fountain. Despite your fears the day had passed relatively painlessly; the bus ride into the city and ambling around the cobblestone streets soaking up the history behind a tour group had been almost fun, if you let yourself forget about the reason you were there. 

Unfortunately, the malevolent presence you’d sensed in Singapore was still hovering somewhere nearby, even if you couldn’t see anyone tailing you. 

Where is Changbin and why isn’t he here yet? Is he planning on having me die all dramatically in his arms? 

No, Mama would never forgive him, and he idolizes her too much to do that. Honestly, sometimes it’s like she’s his grandmother, not mine. 

You shook the errant thoughts out of your head, choosing instead to focus on scanning the crowd for Changbin. The sun had set almost an hour previously and the fountain was glowing with lights from within, highlighting both the carved marble and the people admiring it. 

Where was he even? 

The pasta you’d had for lunch seemed like a meal from years ago. You’d been waiting long enough; you needed food at this point. You dug through your bag, searching for the savory pastry you’d bought earlier for a snack. The little packet of dough, herbs, and vegetables was bright on your tongue, giving you a little energy and brightening your mood. 

But the fear that he’d been discovered too, and people were lying in wait to capture you and take the pretty silver drive tucked in your inner pocket kept you from enjoying your food. 

If NCT didn’t capture and kill you, the anxiety would instead. 

---

Changbin stared out from the shadow of a building, cap pulled low over his eyes. His gaze skimmed the crowd, looking for your familiar figure. 

He’d been hiding for a while, having already taken out one of the operatives tailing you. He had spotted you earlier as you were eating, illuminated by the glow of the fountain that seemed to light you up with a glow that made Changbin’s heart stutter a little when he looked at you. 

His eyes, while drawn to you like magnets, still noticed the dark figure in all black that was watching you from the gelato shop opposite. 

Changbin’s wolf training kicked in almost immediately. Someone was threatening one of his teammates, his friends– he wasn’t about to let the man anywhere near you. 

He crept up behind the man and tapped his shoulder to get his attention, smiling benignly before yanking him backwards into an alley and taking him out with two quick punches to the temple and jaw. Surveillance now taken care of; he could focus on making sure the area was secure before approaching you. 

And now, after another half an hour of searching, Changbin was certain no one else was watching you aside from him. He pushed up his cap and let a smirk play across his lips. 

Sure will be nice seeing _____ again. She always looks cute when she’s startled. 

He sauntered up to you from behind, hands jammed into his pockets and headphones swinging around his neck. 

“Hey Princess, made a wish yet?” 

A tiny gasp escaped you as you whirled around and almost fell against Changbin. His arms came up almost reflexively and held you tightly against him, making sure you weren’t about to fall over into the fountain. 

“Fucking finally Bin, you took forever. I thought you were going to stand me up.” Your words were carefree and blasé, but Changbin heard the faint quiver in your voice. 

The hours of stress, of waiting for someone to come, of fear that in the next second a bullet would somehow end up in your skull, of one of the most turbulent flights you’d experienced in a while all swept over you as you stood there tucked against Changbin. His arms cradled you gently, spreading warmth throughout your body, swaying with you as he hugged you like you were the most important person in the entire universe.

“As if I’d ever stand you up. Now come on, we’re staying pretty nearby.” He lowered his head slightly so that his lips were just brushing your ear. “The man who was watching you earlier will have a pretty bad headache when he wakes up, not to mention that he’ll be getting severely punished for losing you.”

Already a grin crept across your face as you reached down to grab your suitcase, still holding Changbin’s arm with your other hand. “Thanks Bin.” 

“Always ____. Always.” 

---

The walk back to the little apartment was quiet; exhaustion poured over you in waves as you tried to stay upright. Changbin clutched your suitcase in one hand, the other clasped around yours to give you some sort of support as you made your way between the brightly colored houses. 

He stopped soon after in front of a door with an ornate bronze knocker. Digging through his pocket, Changbin pulled out a small key and slipped it into the lock, pushing the door open. 

“We’re on the top floor, with roof access in case we need to get out in a hurry. We shouldn’t need to though, this safehouse was set up by my dad.” 

Grumbling under your breath, you climbed up the two narrow flights of stairs that led up to the loft apartment. Changbin pressed his thumb against the doorknob and waited for the fingerprint recognition to work. He then tapped in a quick code on the keypad revealed in a panel in the door and it finally swung open. 

“There’s a shower in there, and I brought some stuff for you if you need clothes to change into.” Changbin went over to another suitcase waiting inside the little apartment and pulled out a plain black t-shirt and gray sweats. 

Taking the proffered clothes, you slipped inside the bathroom. The heat and pounding of the hot water washed away some of the tension still coiled inside your muscles, leaving you limp with exhaustion. You let the water wash over you, losing all sense of time, enjoying the relief of focusing on one sensation without having to worry about who might come after you while your guard was down. 

Changbin was outside, and you trusted him to keep you safe. 

Finally, you turned off the water; sleeping in an actual bed would probably result in a lower risk of drowning that falling asleep in the shower, which you were certainly close to. Drying off quickly, you threw on the clothes Changbin had given you and tumbled out into the main room of the little studio apartment. 

“You look slightly more human.” One corner of Changbin’s lips quirked up as he looked up from the gun in his hand. A small bottle of liquid sat on the table next to him, and a stack of cotton scraps which he was using to clean and oil the metal. 

The smell was familiar in a way; Changbin always cleaned off his twin pistols before he slept, and you’d spent enough time with him to know his routine almost as well as your own. 

“I feel a hell of a lot more human. So, how are we getting to London?” You set down on the bed and leaned back against the pillows behind you, taking a deep breath as you sank into the plush warmth. 

Changbin tucked one gun next to his shoes and put the other on the nightstand on the other side of the bed. He sat down, the bed sinking slightly on his side as he turned to look at you. 

“Well, air travel is going to be a lot harder to manage because it’s a lot more regulated, and even if we call the jet, we’ll still have to file a flight plan. Boat would work but it would also take a long time, so we’ll go by train. We shouldn’t have any reason to get our passports checked as long as we’re within the EU, and then once we get to Calais, we can easily just take a boat over to England. It’ll be a lot more subtle, and we should be able to make it within the deadline.”

“Train? Really? Will it be fast enough?” 

“_____, Europe is tiny. If we take a train tomorrow morning, we’ll be in Paris by evening. From there it’s easy enough to get to Calais.” 

“If you’ve put so much thought into this, then how are we supposed to make sure no one follows us onto the train.” You crossed your arms over your chest, frowning thoughtfully. 

“It’s a risk we’ll have to take. The only thing is, there’ll be less regulation and so hopefully if things go sour, we’ll have an easier time escaping. That and, if we’re on a train we can get off in the middle, and that’s a hell of a lot easier than jumping out of a plane.” 

You nodded slowly, considering his plan. He did have a very good point; it would be easier to escape off a train. 

What choice do we have? At least this way we have a chance. 

“Fine. You’re right. Now come on, if we have to take a train I’m assuming we’ll have to be out of here early in the morning.” 

“Departure’s around 5 am Princess. You can finish up your beauty sleep on the train, I’ll even let you use my shoulder as a pillow.” He pulled one of the armchairs next to the bed and settled into it, eyes already beginning to close. 

“Good night.” 

You let the soft sound of Changbin’s steady breathing lull you to sleep.

---

Dark woods all around you.

Shadowy trees looming every direction you turned.

One path forward.

A break in the tree line, only to reveal clouds obscuring part of the glowing yellow full moon. 

A howl cutting through the air, making the back of your neck prickle with fear. 

A flash of mangy brown, and claws swiping through the red cloak you had wrapped around you. 

The basket in your hand falling, falling, falling.

Red splattering through the air.

Blood red. 

Painpainpainpainpain

Menacing shadows all around you.

Black warmth enveloping you, calling out your name.

“_____! _____! Wake up for fuck’s sake! _____!” Changbin’s voice broke through the dense fog of the nightmare that had captured every one of your senses. Heart racing, you opened your eyes only to make out his face close to yours, close enough for you to see the fear in his eyes. His hands clutched your arms, shaking you to try and rouse you from whatever horror you were seeing. 

The moonlight streaming through the window calmed you as your eyes adjusted and you realized where you were. Changbin was sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard and holding you tightly against his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart under your ear, a little fast but still helping ground you. 

Breathing fast, you simply lay there for a moment. His arms wrapped around you, his cheek resting against the crown of your head.

Every time you closed your eyes you could still feel the sharp claws of the monster that had attacked you. 

Slowly, steadily, your breathing began to even out and you settled further into Changbin’s embrace. You slipped your arms around his torso, not ready to let him go just yet. 

“_____?” His voice was softer now, a gentle whisper rather than the sharp order it had been. “What happened Princess?”

“Bad dream.” You mumbled, embarrassed now that you were more awake. You were a professional thief and the heir to a mafia family; you were not supposed to get so freaked out by a nightmare of all things. 

“It must have been pretty bad, if you were screaming like that. Do you want to talk about it?” The gentle rasp of his voice was calming.

You sighed. He wouldn’t let this go without you telling him– Changbin was stubborn like that. “It’s probably because of the whole Little Red Robbing Hood thing people have been calling me lately. I don’t even know, it was weird. I was trapped in this forest and all the trees were like monsters. There was this mangy-looking, kind of flea-bitten brown wolf or dog or something that jumped at me and clawed me, and then a bunch more shadows were surrounding me or something and it was like this explosion of pain, I don’t even know.” 

“So, a wolf attacked you? In a dark forest? ____, that does sound like a fairytale. Maybe you need a break from all this. You’ve been going on so many heists and missions lately, no wonder you’re stressed.” 

“I guess.” You trailed off, not sure if you wanted to finish your tale. That somehow there had been a black wolf that had protected you, made you feel safe and warm and comforted and kept whatever pain you felt at bay. 

Changbin tapped the lamp next to you and a soft yellow glow filled the room. He looked down at you, dark eyes meeting yours unflinchingly, without the slightest hesitation. 

“You know, any monster, real or imaginary, would never be able to come near you if I was there. You have a wolf for protection after all.” 

At any other time, you would have felt shy at his direct statement. You might have laughed at his dramatic, even slightly romantic streak. Who used their ridiculous title as an actual declaration of protection? 

However, the way Changbin’s eyes were drilling into you made that all but impossible. 

If anything ever happened, he means it. He really would protect me with his life. 

Unable to muster up the words to respond to him, you simply nodded and curled your fingers into the fabric of his shirt. The little clock on the nightstand read 2:26 am and you could probably squeeze in another hour and a half of sleep before you had to leave. 

With the solid warmth of Changbin curled around you, you actually did have a chance of getting some proper rest this time. 

---

Changbin sighed as your breathing finally evened out, signaling that you were asleep. He traced a finger over your cheek, drawing a little heart on your skin as you slept. 

“What am I to do with you?” He whispered into the darkness. “You’re going to be the death of me.” 

He sighed softly, the puff of air escaping from his lips pushing a lock of hair away from your face. “I–”

I love you. But he didn’t have the courage to utter his thoughts aloud and make them real. 

The night would keep his secret for him; never telling you how much you meant to him. 

He was just a friend to you. Nothing more. He couldn’t aspire to be more with someone of your prestige and rank and skill. 

And if all he could do was give you a safe space to break down in and protect you to the best of his ability? That’s what he would do. 

You were too important to him; he wouldn’t risk the bond between you for anything. 

---

“Rise and shine Princess, you don’t want to miss the train, do you?” 

“I hate you.”

“Yeah I hate you too and look where we are now. If you don’t get up then we’re going to be stuck here for another twelve hours, and that’s twelve whole hours for NCT to get their shit together and find us.” 

“Are you ready?” You mumbled from underneath one of the pillows 

Changbin rolled his eyes. “For your information, I actually am. Unless you want me to show up at your grandmother’s house without you saying ‘Oh, ____ just wanted to sleep and that’s why I had to leave her behind’ I suggest you get going.” 

You grumbled but pushed yourself up, sitting on the bed. “Did you already pack all of my stuff?” 

“Yes, because I’m the best partner you’ll ever have.” 

“Questionable. Orange did a pretty great job last time.” 

“Jisung is talented but he’s got nothing on me.” Changbin threw a sleazy wink at you and laughed when you threw the pillow next to you at his head. 

You splashed water on your face and huffed at Changbin’s grin in the mirror. “His ego isn’t as ginormous as yours either.” 

“You love me even with my ginormous ego, so I think I win.” 

He meant it as a joke. Changbin always says stupid shit like that, it’s nothing new. 

“Keep telling yourself that Bin.” 

Somehow though, his words kept reverberating through your head. Now that the idea had been planted your head, you couldn’t help wondering. 

Would it be that hard to fall in love with him? 

You weren’t sure if the answer scared or excited you.

---

The train station was crowded despite the early hour; no doubt commuters and locals and jetlagged tourists were taking advantage of the cooler weather. You and Changbin stuck close together, hands brushing as you made your way to the platform. 

As you approached the train, you couldn’t help feeling like there was something watching you, something you could sense and feel but not actually see. 

A malevolent presence. 

You tugged on Changbin’s sleeve to get his attention. “Bin, I think our friends from last night might be somewhere around here.” 

“Fuck.” The curse escaped his lips as he glanced around. “Hopefully they don’t spot us, and the train gets away alright.” 

He reached over and pulled the hood of your yellow hoodie up over your head. Your heart gave a little thump as his fingers brushed the side of your cheek. “Come on, let’s go. We’re leaving in ten minutes anyways.” 

Changbin quickly busied himself with putting your suitcases in the storage rack, while you got your tickets out and kept things ready for the conductor to check. The sooner you left Rome, the better. 

Within a few minutes, you felt the train begin moving under you, the acceleration pushing you against the back of the seat. Changbin reached over and patted your hand, twining your fingers together and squeezing slightly. 

“You okay? We seem to be alright so far.” 

A sigh escaped your lips as you looked out of the window, the grand architecture of the city you’d gotten to spend far too little time in looming in the distance. 

“It’s just… I kind of wanted to have more time here. Maybe see the sights, go on more than just the one short day tour while constantly stressing about someone following me. It feels like I got cheated, you know? I came to Rome, of all places, and I barely got to see any of the history and architecture and art.”

One corner of Changbin’s lips quirked up. “Well, who knew Little Red Robbing Hood had such an interest in art beyond what’s easy to steal?” 

“Hey!” You hit his arm, hard. He didn’t have to tease all the time, did he? And mentioning that name in a public place was dangerous!

“How’s this Princess? If we get out of this alive, and your grandmother doesn’t kill me for displeasing her, I’ll take you to Rome for fun. No work, no missions, no targets. Just you, me, and whatever else you want.” 

You gulped at the look in his eyes. 

Warm. Soft. Heartfelt. A little cheeky. 

Loving?

He’s serious.

A chuckle escaped him as he leaned back against the seat. “Like I said though, that depends on us getting out of this alive. And for that, you’d probably want a bit of a nap. I promised you my shoulder, didn’t I?” 

He patted his right shoulder and you shook yourself out of the reverie that had overcome you. He was just messing around. I’m imagining things. It’s just being with someone who’s sort of cute and hot and knows me well. It’s the proximity is all. He doesn’t actually like me. 

Does he?

You scowled even as you settled into place, head resting against Changbin’s shoulder. He was warm and smelled of pine needles and something else, something you couldn’t place. 

Slowly, your eyes drooped shut and you fell asleep curled up against him, barely noticing the arm he wrapped around you as he pulled you closer to him. 

---

Not even two hours later, you were jolted awake by Changbin shaking your shoulder roughly. “_____, wake up. They found us. We have to move.” 

Your eyes flew open and you stifled a groan as you realized what he was talking about. Behind you, through the glass door connecting the compartments, you could make out two dark suited figures coming towards you. 

One of them looked all too familiar. The man from the plane, who had a bandage on his forehead where Changbin must have knocked him out earlier. He wasn’t smiling now; rather his face was twisted in a snarl. 

All too aware of the flash drive hidden inside your pocket, you reached down and grabbed Changbin’s hand, squeezing it tightly. While you had been asleep the compartment had emptied, and now its only occupants were the two of you. 

And of course, the two men from NCT. 

They approached you slowly, each one making his way down one aisle towards you. You reached into your pocket and pulled out a small knife–a gun’s noise would attract far too much attention.

“Finally caught up with us hmmm? Took you long enough,” you quipped, rolling your eyes. 

“Give us the drive.” 

Changbin smirked at the man coming towards him. “Come and get it, if you can.” 

All at once, the tension in the compartment snapped. The man coming towards you leaped over the last row of seats and bore down on you, stabbing downwards at your hips. You twisted, avoiding the small blade and scoring a long shallow cut along the man’s sleeve, which protected his arm. 

He threw two quick punches at your head and you skipped out of reach, moving around him so that his back was against a window. As you slashed and feinted and blocked his blade, the wheels in your mind turned constantly. 

How do I get rid of this guy?

The red latch on the window caught the edge of your vision, and a little smirk slipped over your lips. Bingo.

You swung out with your left hand, hoping to distract your opponent, and with your right hand you grabbed the red handle and pulled. The window flew open, the glass falling out exactly as expected of an emergency exit. 

Hands flat against the man’s chest you shoved him once, hard, and he toppled out of the window as the idyllic countryside streaked by. 

He was gone in a moment. 

Panting, you turned back to Changbin, expecting to see him standing over the body of his opponent. 

Instead, his opponent had him in a headlock, arm tightening around Changbin’s neck and cutting off his air supply. The man brought his other hand closer and closer to Changbin’s neck, a small knife in his hand. 

He stopped with the cool metal cutting slightly into Changbin’s skin, holding him in place carefully. His eyes though, were fixed on you. 

“Well well well. Little Red Robbing Hood, caught at last.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say ‘caught’, but whatever asshole.”

The man shook his head ruefully. “Tsk tsk. You should be a little more polite. After all, I do have your wolf right here with a knife to his neck. I think I hold all the cards in this situation.” 

The knife in his hand cut into Changbin’s skin a little more, and a thin rivulet of red seeped out of the wound, staining the collar of Changbin’s shirt. Changbin’s eyes were panicked as he met yours, and his lips moved in the same way over and over, as though he was mouthing something to you. 

Leave me ____! Run! Leave me!

“Well, I can’t have you hurting him. So how about you let him go, and then we can talk about this in a more… civilized manner.” Despite your panting, you managed to keep an even tone. 

The man chuckled hollowly. “What’s there to talk about? You have three seconds to pass the drive to me, otherwise I will kill your little mangy runt. Fine job he did protecting you. You should join NCT, perhaps there we can outfit you with talent more suited to you.”

The knife moved closer and closer to the veins in Changbin’s neck, until you simply couldn’t bear it anymore. 

If he got hurt because of you, you’d never forgive yourself. 

“Stop! I’ll give you the drive. Just don’t hurt him.” 

You dug the little metal rectangle out of your pocket and slid it across the floor. The man smiled almost to himself, and then–

Changbin collapse sideways, falling onto a row of seats with a limp thud. The man reached down and grabbed the drive, shoving it into a pocket and immediately slipping out of your compartment.

It galled you that you couldn’t chase after him. 

But as you came level with Changbin’s limp figure on the seats, your heart jumped into your throat. 

The seat was covered in red. 

Blood red. 

Your signature color. 

Quick as a flash you were kneeling beside him, one hand cradling his face even as you tilted it upwards to trace over his neck. The cuts there were shallow, hesitant, only a threat. 

Where’s the blood coming from? 

“_____,” Changbin coughed. “My arm.” 

You unbuttoned the first three buttons of his shirt and slid the soft fabric off his shoulder, only to gasp. The man had stabbed Changbin’s arm and then yanked out the knife at a different angle, leaving blood dripping. 

“Fuck, this is bad.” You ran back to the seat where you’d been only a few minutes previously, digging through your suitcase and pulling out the first aid kit. 

You were not going to lose Changbin. Not to something as dumb as blood loss. Not to anything ever.

“Okay, Bin, I need you to try and sit up, if you can.” You reached around him and grasped his other arm, pulling him upright even as he swung his legs off the seat. “Now hold this against the cuts on your neck, I need to work on your arm first.” 

You quickly swabbed the whole wound with alcohol wipes and began wrapping it with gauze and tape, keeping it as tight as you could around Changbin’s bicep to restrict the blood flow. 

Changbin winced even as you finished up, his eyes soft despite the pain no doubt filling his senses. 

“You shouldn’t have done that _____. I’m not worth that drive, we all know the information on it is incredibly valuable.” 

“Shut up.” 

“I’m serious ______. You can’t tell me my life is worth more than that drive.” 

You tightened your hands, your bloodstained, shaking hands, into fists.

“Seo Changbin how fucking DARE you. Do NOT tell me what your life is worth. You have absolutely no idea how important you are and how much you’re worth to me. So shut the fuck up you idiot.” 

“I—”

“Did you not just hear me tell you to shut up.” Kneeling in front of him, you grasped his chin in one hand, fingers gentle despite the anger still coursing through your veins. You tilted his head up, wiping off the cuts on his neck and placing bandages on each of them as well. 

Changbin winced as you finished, turning back to look at you.

“You know they’ll be long gone with that thing. We need to get it back.” 

“I know we need to get it back. Do you really think I’m that stupid?” 

Changbin chuckled, then immediately raised a hand to his neck as the movement pulled at the tape. “Well, you did just give them the drive.” 

He was infuriating. You were just about to smack his arm when you caught yourself. A pout stole over your lips even as you spoke. “You’re lucky you’re injured; you get a free pass.” You changed the movement to a light brush of your fingers against his skin, tracing the line of his muscles and the edge of the gauze.

The moment hung in the air, tense and yet comfortable at the same time. The banter between you was normal, but the concern for each other that was normally buried under five layers of sarcasm and six of wit was now well out in the open. 

There was no way he could mistake the look in your eyes.

There was no way you could mistake the look in his. 

“Well, I guess I am lucky.” Changbin broke the silence between you. “I mean, I do have a pretty girl basically sitting in my lap, holding my arm, and stroking my neck.” 

You almost choked, scrambling off his lap in an instant. “I was making sure the gauze was in place! And you still have blood on your neck you dumb-dumb. Planning on getting that off yourself?” 

The moment was broken, but you still felt heat suffusing your cheeks. Only Changbin could get you so riled up with such ease. 

“I did say I was lucky, didn’t I? Maybe if I’m luckier you’ll kiss them all better.” 

“I hate you.” 

“Clearly not, you did just save my life and trade an extremely valuable object for my safety.”

“Shut up and put this on.” You dug around in his bag and pulled out a hoodie, throwing it at his head. “You have until we arrive in Paris to start feeling better.” 

“Awwww Princess, you do care. You know what would make me feel better almost instantly?” 

Ignore him. You have work to do.

“A kiss. One right here—” he pointed to his arm like a petulant toddler, complete with pout and all. “—and one here, and one right here.” 

“Your lips aren’t injured Bin.” 

“Damn. Maybe I should have gotten that guy to punch me too.”

“You are so lucky I have to figure out this tracker and I can’t pay attention to you.”

---

Changbin lay back against the pillows in your little hotel room in Paris, finally clean and freshly bandaged after the harrowing train ride into the city. You were still seated at the desk, fingers clacking on the keyboard much as they had been for the past four hours, aside from regular breaks to check on Changbin’s injuries. 

“What are you even working on?” he mumbled sleepily, eyes half closed as he cuddled into the pillows. 

You waved a hand in his direction, trying to get him to shut up before he broke your concentration. A few more clicks and… perfect. 

The laptop hummed as you turned back to Changbin and padded over to the bed, sitting down on a corner. “If you didn’t keep interrupting me, I’d have gotten done a hell of a lot sooner. But anyways, you don’t think I would have given them the drive without some way to get it back.” 

Understanding dawned on Changbin, even in his sleepy, pain medication-induced daze. “You put a tracker on the drive.” 

“Exactly. And, I was also working on this.” You reached into your bag and pulled out a small hard disk. “There’s no guarantee that they won’t have placed a tracker on the drive as well. So, what we do, once we get it back, is move the information on that drive to this one. It’s set up to be automatic. All we have to do is plug the other one in.” 

“Well aren’t you clever?” The dopey smile on Changbin’s face as he looked at you made your stomach do flips.

“People have said that before.” A shy, almost coy smile worked its way across your face in response. You got up from the bed and went over to the chair, pulling it so that it sat next to the bed. 

“You should sleep, we both should really. The computer will finish its search for the tracker in an hour, and we need to be at our best before we try and take on NCT again. 

Changbin patted the pillows next to him. “Come here then. I’m cold.” 

“You have blankets.” 

“Yeah but I—”

“Fine.” You lifted a corner of the blankets and got in next to him. “I guess I owe you after my nightmare.” 

“Thank you.” The soft reply in the dimly lit room made your heart skip a beat. Changbin reached out under the covers and grasped your hand, pulling you closer to him. 

Five minutes later, you were out cold, one hand resting against Changbin’s chest right over his heart, the steady thumping reassuring you that he was alive and safe and here with you. 

---

“How’s your arm?” You asked, searching through the items in your bag for pepper spray and throwing weights. 

Changbin stretched it carefully, moving it in small circles to test its range of motion. “I think we’re good. It’s sore, but I can work with this.” 

“Now remember, I’m doing most of this. The drive is being taken to a music festival in the Latin Quarter. That means they’re probably going to have a handoff there, in the crowd. I’ll be in the mess of people, and I’ll nab the drive and then come to you.” 

“I’ll have the transfer disk waiting, and once we’re done, we simply toss the drive out the window and leave as fast as we can.” 

“Exactly. If we have to run, you make sure they don’t catch you again.” 

“Princess, you do care.” 

“Well of course I care about you idiot!” The words burst out of your mouth. The constant worry about Changbin and his needling had worn you down to the point where you were ready to throw something. “You’re my closest friend. I’d trust you with my life. And I care about you more than you know, so can you please not get hurt again? I don’t think I could handle it.” 

The quaver in your voice was unmistakable. 

Changbin reached over and cupped your cheek, turning your face to look him directly in the eye. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat, if it meant you were safe.” 

Slowly, giving you every chance to back away, Changbin leaned closer and closer and closer until his lips brushed against yours, soft and warm and just the slightest hint of teasing as he traced a heart on your back with his finger. 

You melted into him, one hand curling into his hair and the other holding him against you, solid and steady and unwavering. You weren’t sure why you’d never done this before, why you’d waited so long for something that felt so right. 

Beep beep beep. The computer interrupted you and you fell apart, hands still reaching for each other. 

You leaned your head on his shoulder, arms going around him in a hug. “Be safe. And if you think you can kiss me and then die to get out of doing it again, I’ll drag you back to life myself.” 

“_____? Wake up,” Changbin patted your cheek. Your eyes fluttered open and immediately you felt yourself deflating. 

It had just been a dream. 

He didn’t actually love you. 

He hadn’t kissed you. 

“Yeah. I’m up. We should suit up.” You stumbled out of bed with a groan and padded over to the bathroom, splashing water on your red face. 

“Come on, we should be at the festival before it starts, so we can scope out our getaway.” Changbin tucked his favorite pistol into his ankle holster and slipped a knife into his sleeve. 

He paused as you brushed past him, going to your suitcase. “Are you okay ____? You feel off somehow.”

“I’m fine. I’m more worried about you really, you’re the one who got hurt earlier.” 

“Don’t worry, it’s healed enough that as long as I don’t do anything dumb, we’ll be fine. Thanks for patching me up so well.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“Are you sure you’re—”

“Changbin, we need to go before it’s too late. Come on.” 

The two of you slipped out of the little hotel silently, not a word of conversation between you. Changbin seemed to sense your mood, staying quiet rather than initiating his usual banter. 

But the silence only seemed to cement the fact that, while you might care about Changbin, he’d never said anything about loving you back. 

Even in your dream. 

---

Music filled the air, the crowd moving with energy that easily obscured you and Changbin as you made your way closer and closer to the blinking red dot on the screen. The dot had been stationary for almost five minutes, suggesting that it was about to change hands soon and you wanted to get to it before that happened. 

“I think I see him.” Changbin whispered, the mic in his ear catching his every word. “Look near the stage, left side, three feet away from the big speaker.” 

You followed his directions with your eyes and took in the man standing there in dark wash jeans and a black hoodie. A beanie was pulled low over his head, obscuring some of his face. 

Somehow though, you could tell. He was the same man who had almost cut Changbin’s throat. 

Anger rose up in you, and you fought to keep yourself calm. Losing control would do nothing, and you needed to get to him and pickpocket him without anyone realizing. 

“Okay, I’m going in. Be ready to run.” You wiggled your fingers, ready and waiting for the exchange. Slowly, carefully, you neared the man, head down so that he couldn’t see your face under the cap you wore. 

You brushed up against him, making it appear as though the crowd had shoved you and you had simply stumbled. “Pardon, monsieur,” you muttered, hand slipping into the man’s pocket and out again.

One glance down was all it took to check if you had the drive. 

The little silvery piece of metal in your hand blinked up at you in the brightly colored lights of the festival, and you let yourself take a breath of relief. You had it back. 

“I have the box. Initiating transfer now. Let’s run.” You plugged the drive into the box in your pocket and pushed your way through the crowd, finding Changbin once more. He reached down and grabbed your hand the second you were in reach, tangling your fingers together and pulling you along behind him. 

“Come on Princess, let’s go.” The brisk walk through the crowd became a jog as the throng of people decreased, and before you knew it you were running, running as fast as you could, even as the mechanism in your pocket slowly transferred the files. 

---

Fifty feet away, a man checked inside his pocket, only to pull out a rectangular prism made of simple red glass. 

Gold letters spelled out LRRH on top. 

You weren’t about to let him think just anyone had pickpocketed him. A thief of your caliber deserved recognition. 

The man snarled in anger, pulling out his phone and dialing a number. 

“She’s taken it again. Use the tracker.” 

And sooner than you realized it, you and Changbin were being tailed once more.

--- 

The device had just beeped out eighty percent completion when you felt the first bullet whizz past your head, only missing you by inches. You jumped to the side, pulling Changbin with you as you entered a modern looking office building. 

“They caught up to us already! I didn’t think they’d check so soon, I even switched in a weight so he wouldn’t notice the difference.” 

“Nothing you can do now. Let’s get that thing loaded so we can ditch it.” 

The building was a maze of corridors and cubicles, and you took as circuitous a route as you could, to make things difficult for your pursuers. Still, they kept getting nearer and nearer, closer and closer. 

Your head start was dwindling.

And by now, you and Changbin were both exhausted, at the very ends of your strength. This was your last shot to get away. 

“100% complete. File transfer finished.” The automated voice spoke into both of your earpieces. You exchanged a quick look with Changbin. 

“We can’t get out from the bottom; they’re bound to have it sealed. The roof too probably.” Changbin considered for a moment, panting a little. 

You glanced around frantically, looking for a way out. 

And you saw the floor to ceiling windows opposite you, and office building next door, barely eight feet away. If you jumped, you could enter that building and get out that way. 

“The windows!” Changbin immediately realized what you were planning. 

“Drop the drive now, I’ll get the window open.” He reached down and pulled out the small pistol from his ankle holster. One point-blank shot to the window and it shattered, sending shards of glass flying everywhere. 

You unplugged the silver drive and ran back to the elevator, throwing it inside and pressing the button for the highest floor. Hopefully NCT would think you were heading up to the roof to escape. 

“Let me go first, then you,” Changbin stepped a few paces back, then with a running start he sailed into the night, crashing through the opposite window with a roll to regain his balance. 

“I made it, come on _____!” He called. The wind rushed through your ears, your heart pounding like crazy. 

“Come on! I’ll catch you; I promise _____!” 

You took a deep breath. 

In.

Out. 

Now or never. 

You ran as fast as you could, falling through the air until you weren’t any more.

You opened your eyes, a laugh escaping your lips as you realized that one, you weren’t dead, and two, Changbin had caught you just as he promised he would. 

Hysterical giggles burst out of both of you as you looked at each other, the adrenaline rush finally bubbling over. You’d made it, you were safe, and if you got out of here fast, you could be home within the next six hours. 

“Can you—”

“No way—”

“I didn’t even think we—”

“—we’d make it.” 

Your laughter quieted as you calmed down, the adrenaline seeping out of you leaving you more tired than before. 

Changbin grinned down at you, light and carefree. “You have glass in your hair you know Princess? They look like diamonds.” He reached over and picked a shard out of your hair, flicking it over his shoulder without taking his eyes away from yours. 

“You do too Bin.” You reached up and brushed the mess from his hair, tousling it gently. 

Suddenly, you realized just where you were. Standing barely a hair’s breadth away from Changbin, breath mingling as you calmed down, hand half tangled in his hair. 

It was like your dream all over again. 

You moved to back away, pulling your hands away from him but Changbin reached up and grabbed them both, pulling you flush against him. 

He stared deep into your eyes, his gaze pinning you in place to the point where you couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Changbin filled your senses, his scent the only thing you could smell, the light sound of his breathing the only thing you could hear, the soft touch of his fingers on yours the only thing you could feel, the warmth in his eyes the only thing you could see. 

And then—

The sensation of his lips, his tongue against yours the only thing you could taste. 

He cradled your jaw as gently as he possibly could, holding you against him and kissing you with every ounce of his being, as though if he let you go, he would lose a part of himself. 

You weren’t sure when you broke apart. 

Changbin was still close, close enough that your breath was intermingled with his, your noses brushing every time you moved even the slightest millimeter. 

“What was that?” you whispered. Somehow a normal volume was far too loud for this situation. 

Changbin scrunched his nose ruefully. “Something I’ve wanted to do for a while.” 

“Why didn’t you?” 

“I was a bit scared I’d get slapped. That and I didn’t want to fuck this up. You’re the closest friend I have _____, you’re more important to me than anyone else. I couldn’t risk losing you.” 

“Why kiss me now then?” 

“I couldn’t wait any longer. We could have died jumping just now and I don’t want to die without having given this a shot. Why all the questions?” 

“Last one, promise.” The sparkle in your eyes made Changbin gulp. “Kiss me again?” 

And you yanked him down towards you, pressing your lips to his with a sigh. 

It felt… right. 

He was meant to be yours. And you were meant to be his. 

This time you pulled away first, resting your head on his shoulder for a moment before stepping away from him. 

He smiled shyly at you, the tips of his ears turning slightly red as you blew him another kiss. “Let’s get to our hotel. Now that we don’t have a tracker on us, we can fly to your grandmother and get it to her within the next few hours.” 

“Lead the way Princess.” 

Hand in hand, you made your way out of the building. 

---

Epilogue

The car pulled up in front of your grandmother’s manor smoothly. You hopped out of the driver’s seat and handed the keys over to her butler, who bowed respectfully. 

“Welcome home Miss _____. Your grandmother is in her favorite sitting room.” 

“Thank you.” You grasped Changbin’s hand in yours and began the familiar trek to the sunny room your grandmother ran her empire from. 

“Well _____, Changbin, what took you both so long?” 

“Sorry Mama, we had some mishaps. But here you go.” You handed her the new red disc and she immediately tucked it inside her desk. 

Her eagle eyes, still sharp and perceptive as ever, landed on yours and Changbin’s hands. 

“These mishaps wouldn’t have anything to do with you holding hands with a boy right in front of me, would they?” 

“They helped us get to this stage?” You were a little nervous as she stood up and walked over to you both. 

“It’s about time you found someone _____, you keep a good grasp on this one alright? And you, boy, you look familiar. What’s your name?” 

The little twinkle in her eye suggested she knew exactly who he was. She’d met him plenty of times before, she just enjoyed playing with you both. 

“Seo Changbin, ma’am.” 

“You treat my granddaughter well, and don’t let her get too absorbed in her work. She needs a little teasing now and then alright?” 

Of all the things you were expecting from her, that had not been one of them. 

“Mama! Leave him alone, he’s been a perfect gentleman.” 

“Well maybe he should be less of one, you could do with a little shaking up. You’re far too sure of yourself sometimes _____, let yourself live and enjoy your childhood a little more. There’s more to life than just our work.” 

At this point, both you and Changbin resembled tomatoes. 

“Now go do whatever it is young people do in their spare time, I have work to do.” 

Clearly dismissed, the two of you left the room, shyly exchanging looks as you walked out into the gardens, still holding hands. 

“I wasn’t expecting her to be so…” Changbin trailed off uncertainly. 

“Forward? Pushy? She likes you Bin, that’s all. It’s a good thing.” 

“Well, now your grandmother approved of me. You’re stuck with me _____.” 

“Maybe I like having you around.” You weren’t entirely sure where this level of flirtatiousness was coming from but Changbin’s blush was far too rewarding for you to stop. 

That is, until he pecked your nose and then ran off, taunting you into trying to catch him. 

[3norachas]

masterlist

[11:04 pm]

it started with the lingering pecks on the corner of his lips, like the gentle autumn breeze along with the soft rustling in the leaves, escalating into a storm carrying waves of wind strong enough to bring down a few lamp post.

yet, he still haven't had his fill in his lust.

his teeth tug on her lower lips, inhaling his excitement from the small sigh from the back of her throat, his tongue licking the damage he made on the chapped flesh.

her tongue met his halfway through her wet cavern, tasting him and the warmth. he gasp in surprise when she suckle on his tongue, swiping on the roof of her mouth. his arms were locked around her torso and her hands were tracing his cheeks where his dimples appear.

pulling back for air, they stared at each other's eyes in awe, drinking in the disheveled features they caused.

her lips places sensual kisses everywhere on his face, to the corner of his eyes, to the exact place where his dimples appear, down until she reached his jaw and neck, nibbling on the skin.

he couldn't help the small sighs that escaped his lips, his eyes dilating when her teeth sank on his pulse gently before her tongue swipes on the skin.

"chan..."

he rest his head on the back of the couch, letting her mouth travel across the other side of his neck for more exposure.

"more, give me more please."

[starryseo]

costume. | bang chan

this gif is so cute oml

pairing ↠ chan x gender neutral!reader

genre ↠ fluff!!

wc ↠ 1564

summary ↠ chan really likes couple’s costumes. 

warnings ↠ a tiiiny bit of swearing. woojin is in this fic bc i wrote it before the news; pls don’t read if you’re not comfortable doing so.

a/n ↠ hope this makes u smile!

"We should do a couple's costume," Chan suggested for the fifth - sixth? - time. "I saw a Robin Hood and Maid Marian costume earlier that we'd look so hot in. I'll even let you have first pick."

You groaned, ignoring him for the fifth, or sixth, time.

And then you groaned again, interrupting whatever it was he was just about to say.

"Once again, Chan, I would like to remind you that we're not a couple."

"That can be changed very quickly," he said, stopping his search through his cupboard to shoot you a smirk, "Y/n, would you do me the honour, make me the happiest guy in all of Korea, and go out with me? Please?"

You stopped scrolling on your phone, raising a brow to perfect the bored expression you were sending his way. "I'm positively swooning, how can anyone say no to that?" You fall back onto his bed with a huff, continuing to scroll on Instagram once more.

"Great! C'mon, babe, let's go get our costumes!" He slammed his cupboard shut, turning to pull you up and off his bed. "What do you want to be?"

"Single."

"Ha ha," he shoved your shoulders before pulling you closer again, "Seriously though?"

You placed your hands on his shoulders, grasping tightly to hold him together, because you knew what you had to say was going to make him crumble.

"I'm sorry, Chan, but I already have a costume."

Promptly after your big reveal, Chan had pushed you out of his room and muttered, "We're over." You were too busy laughing at his theatrics to stop any of that, your snickers increasing when you hear him sigh, scoff and sulk behind the locked door.

"Chan," you called, inhaling deeply to control your laughter, "C'mon, open up. Don't be a baby, baby. I can still help you find a costume!"

Silence.

Aside from your choked chuckles.

"Can you stop being a drama queen, man," you groaned, knocking on his door. "Chan, c'mon!"

Unsurprisingly, more silence.

"Alright, fine, I'll be Robin Hood, okay? You happy now?"

You thought that would bring him out of his blues, but he still wouldn't reply. You knocked again, much more softly, before calling his name.

"Just leave him," Woojin said, coming from the living room. "He'll be fine in, like, 5 minutes." He rolled his eyes, a teasing grin on his face though. "C'mon, the guys have set up Mario Kart."

You joined the rest of the boys as Woojin magically got Chan out of his room - in 3 minutes! - to join in on the fun.

He sat on the seat furthest away from you, shooting you a glare, so you knew he was still mad at you. You rolled your eyes at him, adoring the way he pouted and crossed his arms. He was over the top, yet endearing. A deadly combination.

Some time through playing games, you all decided to place bets on who would win, daring the losers to do random things. Seungmin dared Jisung to not speak for 20 minutes (which he failed after 7 minutes), Minho dared Hyunjin to take his shirt off (20 minutes later and he’s still blushing), and Felix dared Changbin to cuddle him for the rest of the day.

When Chan and Woojin were battling it out, Chan lost. Only by a split second, but all his demands for a rematch fell on deaf ears as Woojin cheered victoriously.

"I dare you to let me pick out your Halloween costume!"

"Fine," Chan huffed, sending a pointed look in your direction when Woojin mentioned the costume.

You grinned at him, but he turned away, his pout returning.

When Jeongin moved to get more snacks, you seized the opportunity to flank Chan's left side, immediately draping yourself on his shoulder.

"You done being a baby?" you teased, linking your arm with his. He tried pulling away, but stopped his futile attempts when you wrapped your other arm around his, too. Instead, he simply turned his face away, suddenly intent on watching the Minho v Felix round. "C'mon, Maid Marian, talk to me."

"Only if you tell me who you're going as."

"No can do, Channie," you sighed, "it's a surprise. You gotta wait til the party like everyone else."

"C'mon," he whined, "I won't tell anyone, I promise."

"Nope," you grinned, "Wooj already knows, I can't tell anybody else."

"Seriously?" he exclaimed, "That's so unfair, y/n, I wanna know!"

You shrugged your shoulders, pinching your fingers to pretend to zip up your lips.

"I hate you," Chan grumbled, leaning his head on your shoulder.

"Love you too."

It was Halloween day. Finally. Costumes had been bought, decorations were hung and food was prepped, all tasty and delicious and begging to be eaten.

Just like you all had agreed, the ten of you were wearing the longest coats you could find to cover your costumes. Minho and Jisung had even gone the extra mile to put paper bags over their heads, probably - hopefully - to cover their makeup.

You drew numbers out of a conveniently-placed magician's hat, the numbers dictating the order of the costume reveal.

Hyunjin was first, in a beautiful Captain America suit. He even pulled out a fake shield - from inside the sofa? - to complete the look. Next was a mummy Seungmin: you have no idea how he managed to keep all the layers wrapped so well, but Seungmin was nothing if not insanely talented.

A vampire Jeongin - whose contacts made the youngster actually look pretty terrifying, especially since they glowed in the dark - was next. Then Minho who, upon shredding the paper bag, was revealed to be the Joker.

"You asshole!" Jisung had yelled, jumping from the sofa when Minho took off his jacket too. "We had a deal."

"Holy shit, you actually did it?" Minho laughed, much to everyone else's confusion.

Jisung, who was next anyway, harshly ripped off his own paper bag.

The long, golden locks were a nice touch, but you definitely loved the blue face paint drenching his face.

"You gotta take the jacket off too, man," Minho chuckled.

Jisung was vehemently opposed, shaking his head, but Hyunjin and Minho tackled him, ripping the cover to reveal Jisung in a flowing white dress.

"Isn't Cap supposed to be the good guy?" Jisung grumbled, crossing his arms as he glared at Hyunjin.

"Not anymore," Hyunjin smirked, tossing over Jisung's jacket, though the damage had been done.

Jisung made a very cute Smurfette.

Once everyone's laughter had died down - which took a very, very, long time, because one look at Jisung caused a giggling domino effect to erupt - Woojin revealed himself to be Cupid. He even had wings and a cute heart shaped bow and arrow set. Felix was the angel to Changbin's devil and they both pulled off the duality stunningly well.

You were next to go and you could see the excitement rolling off Chan in waves. He immediately sat up, cheeky grin plastered on his face as he raised his brows, desperately awaiting your big reveal.

Just to tease him, and he rolled his eyes when he caught on to your actions, you undid your jacket as slowly as possible.

Peter Pan.

The fun-loving, Captain-Hook-hating, youngster was who you decided to dress up as. You took out a hat from your jacket pocket to complete the look, twirling the sword that came with the costume around on your finger.

Whatever expression you thought you'd see on Chan's face, you definitely weren't expecting to see him that shocked and confused, his mouth dropping open slightly. You thought you'd see a teasing grin or him laughing, but not this.

"You asshole!" Chan imitated Jisung, turning to face Woojin. "You did this on purpose!"

"No idea what you mean," he let out airily, but by the smirk on his face, you knew he knew.

"Ooh, is Cupid playing matchmaker?" Minho taunted, "It's your turn, Channie!"

Chan huffed as he stood up, shooting Woojin a vicious glare, before facing you for the reveal. He looked nervous, cheeks tinted a light pink, and it was cute watching him bite his lips as he fumbled to open his jacket.

A green dress. You would have joined the others in laughing if you weren't 100 percent sure that dress belonged to a certain tinkering fairy.

Chan certainly did make a pretty Tinkerbell. His muscles were a bit much though in the tight dress, but you weren't exactly complaining about the view of those. 

"Best couple's costume award definitely goes to Chan and Y/n," Hyunjin grinned, shooting you a thumbs up.

"You're welcome!" Woojin hollered, laughing harder when Chan flipped him off.

"That's so unfair," Felix whined, "they didn't even plan that!"

As the boys argued over who would get what awards for the night, you turned to a still-pink-faced Chan.

"We're in a couple's costume," he smirked, "It all worked out in the end."

"Tink's just obsessed with Peter," you argued, "they're not a real couple."

"Just like us then, yeah?"

"Oh, definitely."

"Is Chan flirting with Y/n? Is that seriously all he's got? No wonder it's taken him this long to make a move."

Chan grabbed your hand, making a swift escape to the safe confines of his room.

If anyone asked what the two of you got up to after that, you were simply telling ghost stories. 

[seungmin-jpeg]

Hello everyone its Hannah (seungmin-jpeg)! So I was inspired by @camera-seventeen’s svt surveys last year to make a survey, so I’m making another survey this year! So here the second Stray Kids fan survey from me! This fanbase has grown a lot in the past year, last time I was making this survey there were only two albums out haha, so i thought it would be fun to see how all the responses have changed and such. i’ll leave the survey open for around a month so spread the word so all skz fans can fill it out! after the survey closes i’ll make graphics for it and post it! Thank you in advance to everyone who participates! 

TAKE THE 2019 SURVEY HERE

[vallkyr]

Step Out

When the people you trust most leave you to get caught by the task force hunting you, what else is there to do but finding new allies?

This wonderful gif has been made by the equally wonderful @agustdawn

Pairings: Chan x Kwangsun (OC), Chan x Felix, Minho x Jisung, Changbin x Hyunjin, Younghyun x Liam (OC), Siyeon x Jonghyeon, Aaron x Minhyun and other minor pairings

Genres: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, some Romance and bits of Fluff in between

Tags: Dystopia AU, Rebels AU

Chapter Tags: making up, emotional hurt, making up, unrequited love (or is it?)

Rating: Mature

General Warnings: Violence, Injury, Panic Attacks, Minor Character Death

Chapter Warnings: blood

Word Count: 9,446

Hey, everyone! I'm sorry the update took so long, I've had some trouble writing Step Out. But! I'm back! I'll try to make chapters shorter again and hopefully opdate more often.

Edit: I made some changes to Step Out since first posting it. For the explanation please check the notes at the beginning of chapter 9

 Masterpost

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Chapter 8 – Worry gives a small thing a big shadow

Making composite sketches doesn’t sound like much, but Chan nonetheless feels exhausted when he and Kwangsun sit down in what has become their spot – the little seating corner Younghyun showed them last week. At least they were able to finish Lee Know’s sketch. One down, four more to go. How wonderful, Chan is already looking forward to wrecking his brain for a fitting description of the other members’ faces. Not. Beyond being tiring, making these catches is taking a toll on Chan’s psyche. No matter the circumstances, handing the DIT pictures of the members on a silver platter feels wrong. Dirty.

“Do you think they’ll really be able to find the others with those sketches?” Kwangsun wonders out loud. Chan really doesn’t feel like replying to that. Or like talking at all. He just wants to go home and lock himself up in his room. But at the same time, he doesn’t want to close off from Kwangsun. All this must be difficult for him too. Chan may not be much of a leader right now, but Kwangsun still depends on him and Chan will be damned if he doesn’t live up to that.

“Who knows. If we do our best-”

Blaring alarms cut through their conversation. Panic rises inside of Chan right away. This shit isn’t any easier the second time around; Chan fucking hates the alarms inside the DIT. Kwangsun’s hand quickly finds his and squeezes tightly.

“Focus on me.”

It’s easier said than done. Everything is blinking in yellow and the siren hurts in Chan’s ears. It’s too much. Way too much. All of it. Fuck, why couldn’t it just stop?

“I know this is hard,” Kwangsun says. He tries to keep his voice even despite the loud volume. “But you need to stay calm. Let’s take a deep breath together.”

Chan tries to breathe with Kwangsun, but the air around them feels so stuffy. His chest is too tight. He wants to get out of here. He needs to get out of here.

“Let’s make a plan together, okay?”

Chan only manages a nod. He has to put his entire mind into listening to Kwangsun’s voice to even understand him over everything else bombarding his senses.

“Okay, right now everyone is still rushing to move out,” Kwangsun explains. His voice is so sweet, so calm, so comforting against the sirens. “So we’ll stay here for the time being. Is that alright?” Chan wants to shake his head – he wants to get out of this nightmare as quickly as possible – but he nods. Right now, Kwangsun definitely has the clearer head; Chan needs to trust him. “When everything has calmed a bit, we’ll go to the investigation team’s room. We can sit with Taehyung.”

Chan breathes a low “Yeah” in response. Sitting with Taehyung sounds like heaven right now. Everything would be heaven compared to this loud, blinking hell. He tries his best to continue focusing on Kwangsun, who keeps on rambling and rambling about different stuff they will talk about with Taehyung, anything to distract Chan. Taking another deep breath, Chan closes his eyes and just listens. The sound of Kwangsun’s voice makes it easier to block out the sirens. True to Kwangsun’s codename, his voice is like liquid honey slowly coating Chan’s soul. It’s so sweet and soothing on Chan’s strained senses. When Kwangsun squeezes his hand, Chan opens his eyes again. The blinking is still there, but the sirens have finally stopped.

They get up from the couch in the little seating area and finally make their way to the investigation team’s rooms. It’s a lot quieter there, no running, no rushing. Chan would think the light and sirens hadn’t come through to here if it wasn’t for the tension filling the air. Heads turn and eyes stare at them as soon as they step through the door. When they reach the office of unit C, Taehyung immediately gets up from his desk and crosses the room.

“There you are! I was wondering when you two would come.”

“We had to wait until we were able to get through to here,” Kwangsun explains with a light-hearted smile. Chan is glad Kwangsun is able to come up with an excuse so easily. It saves Chan from admitting his panic attack in front of a bunch of people he doesn’t know.

“Yeah the hallways are a mess when everyone steps out. Anyways, now that you’re here you can finally get to know the rest of our unit.” Taehyung steps behind the person on the desk next to his – closer to the door – and puts his hand on the guy’s shoulder. “This here is Yeosang.” Said person directs a reluctant smile up at Chan and Kwangsun. “He and San-” Taehyung nods towards the person at the opposite desk, who smiles brightly and waves at them- “are the youngest members of our unit.” In a way too loud whisper behind his hand, Taehyung adds “Yeosang is a great help, please convince him to stay after this year.”

“What about me?” San asks with a pout on his face. Taehyung lets go of Yeosang in favour of rounding the two desks and coming closer to San.

“You’re a great help too, Sanie. But you already said you were planning to stay for four years so you don’t need to be persuaded. Yeosang on the other hand…” Taehyung trails off while fixing Yeosang with his gaze.

“I told you I’ll think about it.” Yeosang looks like he can just barely hold back a sigh. Without even knowing the situation, Chan already feels a bit of pity for him. This situation seems like a regular occurrence in unit C.

“I may have been annoying him with this every now and then,” Taehyung confirms Chan’s fear with an only partly regretful smile while going back to his own desk.

“Like once a week.” San seems to find the whole situation rather funny. It’s probably easy for him since he already made up his mind about staying in the DIT for at least four years.

“It feels like more.” Yeosang seems equal parts amused and annoyed by the entire thing. At least he can still laugh about it. Chan can’t help but smile at the interaction. It’s a little hard to believe those three have apparently only been working together for a bit over a year.

“Since Taehyung obviously isn’t going to finish the introduction round,” the guy at the desk in the very back of the office speaks up. “I’m Lance Corporal Park Sungjin. And this-” He gestures towards the person sitting at the desk to his left “is Private Park Roseanne.”

“Nice to meet you.” Private Park has a friendly smile on her face while she greets them. Looking at everyone in this office, Chan feels almost a bit taken aback by how genuinely nice the members of this unit seem despite Chan and Kwangsun having been the enemy just a month ago. Maybe they’re an exception from the rest of the DIT. But then again, Chan thought the same about Taehyung, but clearly, he was wrong. So maybe Chan is just a little too pessimistic after having been around the battle team.

“Nice to meet you,” Chan and Kwangsun echo. With Taehyung sitting again, it becomes rather obvious that Chan and Kwangsun are the only ones standing. It makes them feel a little out of place. As usual.

Almost as though she read Chan’s thoughts, Roseanne speaks up again. “The last few offices in the back are empty, you can get chairs from there.”

It feels a bit weird to just take chairs from one of the unused offices, even though they got permission to do so. Almost everyone is staring at Chan and Kwangsun from their respective desks while they walk back with the desk chairs. Passing the offices feels a little like running the gauntlet. Though it’s still nowhere near as bad as when they entered the battle team’s rooms for the first time.

“Do you have any news about the attack yet?” Kwangsun’s question feels a bit heavy, especially after the playful banter from earlier. But then again, it’s kind of the elephant in the room when sirens were howling and lights were blinking just a few minutes ago.

“Sadly no,” Lance Corporal Park answers. “In a few minutes we’re all going to the conference room to watch the news together and see what’s going on.”

“Do you always work that way?” Chan asks. He doesn’t know what he expected from the investigation team but gathering in front of a TV to watch the news together definitely wasn’t part of it.

“Yeah. Reports from the battle team can be kind of fuzzy. It’s great to have them, but we don’t want to rely on them alone. Another point of view never hurts.” With Taehyung’s explanation it does make a lot more sense. Trying to keep up with everything while staying in the office must be hard. They may have reports and the possibility to investigate the scene afterwards, but nothing can replace first-hand experience.

“It has started.” Everyone turns their heads towards the guy standing in the door frame to their office. Behind him, people get up from their seats and stream towards the meeting room at the end of the middle hallway. Chan feels nervousness fill him again as they too get up and start to follow. He tries his best to stay right in between Kwangsun and Taehyung and readies himself for what he’s about to see.

[-]

Another empty room. Jungkook waits in the doorway while Bora dutifully but needlessly checks every part of the office. Not being able to rely on security cameras is a pain in the ass. Already about to tell Bora that they should move on, Jungkook is interrupted from a noise down the hallway. The rest of their unit is the opposite way. Maybe another unit?

“I think I heard something. I’m going to check.” It’s probably just one of their people anyways. Stray Kids are usually gone so quickly, chances are they aren’t even inside the building anymore. Jungkook keeps his gun ready nevertheless; you never know. Rounding the corner, Jungkook is met with a flash of pink. A mask. Jungkook doesn’t have time to think because he’s noticed right away. I.N immediately lifts his gun and yells something, probably a code, nothing Jungkook can make any sense of.

“Stop!” Jungkook shouts when I.N backs away. He’s about to fire a warning show when he finds himself a lot closer to the floor than he used to be. How? What happened? Why is he on his knees? The bang still echoes in Jungkook’s ears. Did he shoot? He looks up but I.N has already vanished. Where did he go? What’s going on? Jungkook looks down and sees red, not pink. Where is this coming from? Only gradually, he starts to feel the strange warmth in his left leg.

Blood. He’s bleeding?

Suddenly pain hits him. Fuck, what the hell? Jungkook’s thigh feels like it’s on fire. What’s happening? Is that really his blood? Jungkook thinks he hears a voice somewhere, but it doesn’t reach his brain. Before Jungkook can get any meaning out of it, there are hands on his body and he is hoisted up onto his legs. “Can you walk?”

“Yes.” Apparently not. Jungkook almost falls back onto the ground when he tries to take a step. Okay. Whatever happened, Jungkook can be sure that he’s injured. There’s no other explanation for that pain.

“Let’s get you out of here.” Bora puts Jungkook’s arm over her shoulder and shifts his weight onto herself before dragging him along, stumbling towards the entry. Every damn step sends another fire down Jungkook’s thigh. He still can’t seem to keep up with any of this. Where did the injury come from? How come he didn’t realize?

“What happened?” A blur passes over Jungkook’s eyes. He doesn’t realize it’s Jimin’s voice until his right arm is lifted and another person helps drag him out of the building. He lifts his head and is met with Jimin’s face next to him.

“He heard a noise and went to check. I.N shot him in the leg.”

Shot? Damnit, that makes sense.

“Fuck!” Frustration and worry drips from Jimin’s voice. Jungkook can’t help but feel guilty for making Jimin upset like that. He just wanted to check who caused that noise, none of them thought Stray Kids would still be here. When they finally make it outside, they’re immediately approached by members of the safety team.

“Bullet wound in the leg,” Jimin explains. “We have to get him into hospital.”

“This way.” The safety team member – Jungkook doesn’t have the mind to try and remember his name – guides them towards one of the ambulances and helps Jungkook onto the stretcher. Pain shoots through Jungkook when he lifts his leg up. So much more pain than before. He’s really been shot? Jungkook still has trouble keeping up with the events and believing the voices around him, but the pain definitely isn’t like anything he’s felt before. Someone helps him lift it onto the stretcher, Jungkook doesn’t register who it is, just feels another jolt of pain.

“Jungkook-ah, hey.” Jimin leans over him, stays still when the world around Jungkook starts moving. “Can you hear me?” Actually, Jungkook can’t hear anything but Jimin. Focusing on Jimin is the only way to get away from the pain and all the blurriness around him.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Jungkook thinks he catches the hint of a smile before Jimin turns around, probably towards Bora again. “I’m going with him so you’re in charge now. Tell Hoseok and Wooyoung what happened.”

“Understood.” And off Bora is, not losing any time.

The doors close and paramedics start fussing over Jungkook. More pain shoots through Jungkook when one of the paramedics start working on stopping the bleeding. He still can’t keep up with what they’re doing; he doesn’t care either if they just get this pain to stop already. Jungkook tries to focus on Jimin to get his mind off the injury, but one of the paramedics soon starts asking Jungkook questions about what happened and about his condition. Jungkook takes a deep breath, tries to gather the pieces of his mind again and reply to the questions the best he can. He probably isn’t much of a help right now but it’s not like anyone else can answer for him.

Although Jimin is staying in the background, he’s a steady, comforting presence in the ambulance. When the paramedic is done asking questions and turns towards her colleague, Jungkook turns his head to look at Jimin. Despite the exhaustion on Jimin’s face, his eyes are stable, full of strength, like he’s still holding Jungkook up with just his gaze. Even with everything going on, Jungkook feels a bit more at ease just looking at Jimin. Having Jimin next to him both brings Jungkook closer and pushes him away from reality.

“How are you?” Jungkook asks, which would usually be such a casual question but inside an ambulance, it feels completely different. Putting it like that makes Jungkook feel ridiculous, but he means it. Seeing someone you’re responsible for wounded must be hard, especially since Jimin wasn’t present when everything happened.

Jimin snorts and shakes his head, not like Jungkook can blame him for the reaction. “You’re the one who got shot.”

“I’ve talked enough about that. So? How are you feeling, Lance Corporal Park?”

Sighing, Jimin leans a little closer to Jungkook, probably not wanting the paramedics to hear their conversation. “Horrible,” Jimin admits. “I was so worried when I saw Bora carrying you. It looked really bad.”

“Worried?” Jimin was worried? About him? Somehow the thought feels so surreal to Jungkook. It had never seemed liked Jimin particularly cared about him, at least not beyond the professional amount.

“Yeah.” For a moment Jungkook thinks he’s dreaming, because Jimin suddenly reaches out and takes Jungkook’s hand into his own. They don’t say anything, just look at each other, but it’s enough to make Jungkook’s heart starts to race again. Considering his current state, that’s definitely suboptimal, but he can’t help himself. This is Jimin after all. Jimin is worth every bit of blood loss. Jungkook feels like he should say something, ask Jimin why they’re holding hands or why Jimin is looking at him with a fondness that melts Jungkook’s heart. But before Jungkook’s brain can provide him with the right words the ambulance comes to a halt and the doors swing open. Jimin lets go of Jungkook’s hand when the stretcher is pulled out, but he follows close behind it.

Distantly, Jungkook thinks he should be more concerned about the bullet possibly still stuck in his leg rather than the warmth of Jimin’s hand still present in his palm. But he’s had an eye on Jimin since his first day at the DIT three years ago, so can you really blame him?

[-]

I.N breaks apart as soon as they’re inside the house. He seems to barely remember to set his backpack down before he lets himself fall to the floor and starts to cry. Changbin quickly puts his own backpack aside before crouching down next to I.N “What’s wrong?” Something must have happened. Missions always leave them irritated and exhausted, but crying is unusual, especially like this. The last time someone had cried was when they left without Chan and Kkul.

“I… I-“ I.N sobs, unable to continue speaking. The poor kid can barely get any sounds out. And his entire body is shaking. What the hell happened?

“He had to shoot at somebody,” Mirror whispers just loud enough for Changbin to hear while crouching down next to them. It takes a moment for Changbin to process those words. Even when they’re on a mission, I.N really doesn’t seem like a person who would shoot at anyone. Judging by his reaction, I.N himself cannot belief what he did.

“I.Nie.” Mirror’s voice is quiet and gentle in a way Changbin hadn’t heard before. It feels so foreign to see them like this when Mirror and I.N are usually easy going and joke around together. Very carefully, Mirror comes closer to I.N, tries to catch his attention. “I.Nie, you aimed at the legs, didn’t you?”

“I-” I.N nods. “I aimed beside him but I-” His sobs intensify and he hides his face in his hands, almost like he’s ashamed to be seen. “I only w-wanted to scare him so we- so we could run away. But suddenly there was blood and-” Another sob breaks through his words.

Changbin hates how helpless he is, how little he can do to help I.N. Not having been present when the incident happened, he can’t provide any words of comfort the way Mirror does. All he can do is try his best to be there for I.N. “Do you want a hug?” Changbin feels almost stupid for offering this. It feels so trivial and out of place when I.N is having a breakdown over injuring another human, but if I.N finds any comfort in hugs he should get one.

I.N nods before all but throwing himself into Changbin’s arms. Changbin pulls him close and lets I.N cry into his shoulder. Hoping to get some answers, he looks up at Mirror. Because they had split up, he has no idea what happened to I.N, Mirror and DaN’s group.

“I’m sorry, I should have paid more attention.” Changbin’s eyes widen at Mirror’s words. Out of all the possibilities, Changbin would have never guessed for Mirror to apologise. “You shouldn’t have had to shoot in the first place. It’s my responsibility that we’re not discovered.”

“Please don’t beat yourself up.” Changbin reaches out and takes Mirror’s hand. Mirror seems a bit taken aback by the gesture, but gifts Changbin with a weak smile nonetheless. “Both of you did your best. We’re talking about a really difficult situation.” Mirror looks down but nods hesitantly; his grip around Changbin’s hand tightens a little.

“I.N, how about we practice shooting together?” Changbin offers after a beat of silence. “I know it’s difficult after what happened, but you need to improve your aim to prevent something like this. Until you feel safe shooting again, I’m sure the others will take care of that.”

“Would that be okay?” I.N carefully pulls away and looks between Changbin and Mirror.

“Of course, I.Nie,” Mirror confirms. “I’ll talk to DaN later. We can handle this.”

Still crying a bit, I.N turns to hug Mirror. Changbin uses the quiet moment to look around them. Apparently, the others decided to give them some space and go upstairs already, which Changbin is grateful for. The last thing I.N needs right now is spectators. After a moment, I.N pulls away from Mirror and starts furiously wiping his tears away.

“I have a question,” he mumbles, still sniffing. “How do you want to practice shooting with me?”

“Oh right, I should have mentioned that we have a shooting range here. Over there, actually” Changbin explains, not being able to help the little smile spreading over his face while he points at the door next to them .

“What?” Mirror looks as though Changbin had just confessed that there was a pink unicorn waiting on the other side of the wall. “Why would you have a shooting range down here?”

“To practice shooting.”

They share a blank stare. Next to them I.N bursts into a fit of giggles. Even though Changbin wasn’t trying to make I.N laugh, he’s definitely happy to have managed that. It feels like the sun suddenly peeking out between dark clouds to see I.N in a slightly better mood again.

“You can come here after school, or whenever you’re free. I have nowhere else to be.” Changbin eventually offers. “If you want, I can talk to Lee Know and come with you, DaN, and Mirror from now on. I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it all work.”

I.N nods and wipes the last bit of moisture away from his cheeks. “Thanks, you two.” A smile blooms on his face as he looks at them. Changbin and Mirror say their respective “You’re welcome” before helping I.N to his feet and going to look for the others together.

[-]

The meeting is mind-numbing as always. So many numbers and details that none of them is going to convey to their respective units anyways. That in addition to the same sequence of events Stray Kids always has. Younghyun would be annoyed, but he knows this is a necessity. Though usually Sergeant Park is… calmer. Today he seems more tense than usual. Maybe something did happen?

“Unfortunately, Stray Kids have escaped again,” Sergeant Park announces with a stern voice. So everything went as usual after all? “However, we know that they were still present at the crime scene when we arrived. A member of the battle team – Private Jeon Jungkook, unit A – has been wounded during an encounter with I.N.”

Oh god. Immediately, murmuring and whispering fills the room. Now that Younghyun looks around, he realizes that Jimin isn’t at the meeting. He must be at the hospital with Jungkook then. Hopefully it isn’t a severe injury.

“We have no information on whether I.N has been wounded too.” Sergeant Park’s voice has become louder, rings over the commotion in the room and makes everyone pay attention again. “I would like the investigation team to pay special attention to any signs for that. The report is complete. You may ask questions now.”

“How is Private Jeon doing?” A Lance Corporal of the investigation team yells over the noise that has erupted in the meeting room once again.

“So far, we haven’t received an update from Lance Corporal Park. But the injury does not seem to be life threatening. You’ll be updated on the situation as soon as we know more.”

More murmuring fills the room. Younghyun doubts anyone is still listening to Sergeant Park closing the meeting, saying that aside from the injury there were no special occurrences and so on. As soon as the meeting ends, Younghyun pushes past the others and makes his way out into the hallway. Almost automatically, he leaves their division’s rooms and goes up the fire escape staircase to the small rooftop at the westside of the building. His personal little hide out with the best view in the entire DIT. Younghyun takes a deep breath before pulling out his phone. After he dials and presses the phone against his ear, the usual wait follows while Liam gets up from his desk, goes into the hallway, to the old copy room and he’s there.

“Hey, babe. Are you okay?” It’s so lovely just hearing Liam’s voice, especially after a mission when Younghyun feels numb and tired. Hearing Liam feels like getting wrapped up in a warm blanket.

“Hey,” Younghyun mutters. “Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Do you know who was injured yet?”

Younghyun looks out into the distance, over the buildings down the street, none of which are tall enough for anyone there to see him on the rooftop. This place feels so at peace it’s hard to believe this is actually part of the DIT. “He’s from the battle team. One of Bam’s friends.”

“Will he make it?”

“Most likely yeah. But I should still be there for Bambam now.” The realisation hits Younghyun like a punch in the face. “Fuck, I’ll have to tell him one of his best friends is in hospital.” Shit, how is he supposed to do that? Bambam probably doesn’t know what’s up yet. And they don’t have any real information on Jungkook’s condition.

“Okay calm down. You can do it. Just be careful and be there for your unit. Let them know that it’s okay to be shocked and take their time to process everything.”

“Right,” Younghyun mutters. “Maybe I should offer Bambam to drive him to the hospital.”

“Good idea, I’m sure he’d appreciate that.” Liam’s voice is a bit softer now. Younghyun can’t help but smile, already knowing what’s to come. “What about you? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Stressed and exhausted, but okay. I’ll live. Pinkie swear.” Smiling, he lifts his pinkie into the air. In another corner of the city, Liam is doing the same right now, Younghyun knows it.

“Pinkie swear.” The smile on Liam’s face is bright enough to be heard through the phone. Younghyun can see it in his mind as though Liam is right in front of him. It warms Younghyun’s heart just from thinking about it.

“What do you think of pizza for dinner?” Liam asks.

“A lot.” Younghyun hadn’t realized how hungry he was, and the prospect of pizza is great motivation for making it through the rest of the day.

“Great, then I’ll get us pizza when I’m done here. You be your amazing self and go take care of your unit. I’ll see you at home.”

Younghyun closes his eyes, just enjoys those words. Even after all those years, the last sentence still makes Younghyun feel fuzzy and warm. Home. He has a home with Liam. “See you at home.” After the call ends and Younghyun’s phone is back in his pocket, he allows himself another deep breath of fresh air before rushing downstairs and to his unit’s room. Talking to Liam is like getting a fresh battery. He always knows exactly what to say to give Younghyun strength.

[-]

Changbin never thought knocking on Jisung’s door could be this hard. They’ve been friends for years, it’s ridiculous for him to be a nervous wreck just thinking about talking to Jisung. He was so upset after their fight… Hurting Jisung was really the last thing Changbin wanted and it’s horrible that this is hanging over them like a storm cloud now. Since Changbin asked Jisung if he’s happy with Lee Know, Jisung has been avoiding Changbin like the plague. They haven’t talked one bit beyond what was required for the mission. Things cannot stay this way. They need to talk about what happened. Or rather Changbin needs to get his shit together and apologise for overstepping Jisung’s boundaries. After another moment of mental preparation, Changbin finally knocks.

Jisung is half sitting half lying on his bed and watching videos on his phone when Changbin enters. His expression stays frozen when he looks at Changbin over his phone. As happy and adorable as Jisung can be most of the time, he’s kind of scary when he’s angry. It’s also very clear Jisung isn’t planning on giving Changbin more attention than is absolutely necessary. The phone stays right there in his hand and he doesn’t even bother greeting Changbin, but Changbin isn’t going to let that stop him.

“Can we talk?”

“If we have to.”

Changbin just barely holds back a sigh. He really should have expected a reply like that. Jisung can be as cold as ice when he wants to. “Jisung, I’m here to apologise.” Luckily, that seems to do the trick since Jisung finally puts his phone aside and sits up.

“I’m listening.”

Changbin sits down on the bed across from Jisung. The fact that Jisung is actually looking at him now doesn’t make this easier. His expression doesn’t let any bit of emotion show and now that he isn’t holding his phone anymore, he has his arms crossed in front of his chest. “I’m sorry for asking all those stupid questions the other day. I shouldn’t have doubted Lee Know’s feelings for you like that. As your friend I should support you instead of getting caught up in my imagination. If you’re content with your relationship then I’m happy for you.”

“Things are going great between me and Lee Know. I wouldn’t want to change a thing.” Finally, Jisung doesn’t seem quite as hostile anymore. He even smiles a little bit. “Thanks for the apology. Even though it feels like you should apologise to Lee Know rather than me. Hyung, you really need to learn to trust him.”

Trusting him… Changbin doesn’t know if he can really do that. Jisung may be convinced but Changbin isn’t. Something about Lee Know’s behaviour is off. Changbin has to respect Jisung’s decision, that doesn’t mean he has to like it or even consider it good. “That’s difficult. I barely know him…”

“Yeah, Lee Know is a tough nut to crack,” Jisung admits with a smile. “But he’s worth the effort, not just because of me. Plus, if we want to work together as a team you need to trust Lee Know as a leader.”

“I’ll try my best.” Changbin honestly doesn’t know how he’s supposed to do that. Chan has always been their leader. Suddenly taking orders from someone else is… weird. But Jisung is right, he needs to be more open about the new situation. He never gave Lee Know a proper chance to prove himself. Lee Know may be questionable as a boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean he’s a bad leader too.

Jisung smiles and shifts closer towards Changbin. “Pinkie swear?” Seeing the usual bright smile on Jisung’s face already makes all the struggling worthwhile. For Jisung, Changbin can make an effort to trust Lee Know.

Smiling, Changbin accepts the pinkie Jisung offers him. “Pinkie swear.”

[-]

“Welcome back,” Mark greets Younghyun as soon as he enters the room. Everyone is gathered around the table, getting their well-deserved rest after the mission. “Everything as usual?”

“Let me guess,” Bambam joins in. “Stray Kids escaped without a trace, but the investigation team is going to do their best to find anything.” His voice is straight up theatrical as he says the last half of the sentence.

Younghyun wishes he could just agree and joke around with them, but sadly that’s not the case today. “Not quite, no.” Jisu immediately sits up straight, alerted despite not having been there during the mission. Everyone else seems to have noticed the shift in mood too and turns their full attention to Younghyun. It’s probably best not to beat around the bush, just rip the band aid off. “Jungkook has been injured-”

All colour drains from Bambam’s face. “What?” He looks like he wants to say something, like a thousand questions are running through his head, trying to beat each other for the finish line but ending up tripping over themselves right in front of it. Everyone is focused on Bambam now, they all know how close Bambam and Jungkook are.

“We don’t know what exactly happened, but Sergeant Park said the injury isn’t life threatening.” Younghyun tries to clear things up a little. The atmosphere in their room stays tense nonetheless, which was to be expected.

“Can we see him?”

“I don’t know. There hasn’t been any update yet,” Younghyun admits. “But if you want, I can drive you to the hospital.”

“Our shift-” Bambam starts.

“Screw the shift.” Mark’s words seem to be exactly what everyone in the room had been thinking. They all nod along, even their workaholic Jisu. “You’re in no condition to work anyways.”

“Agreed,” Younghyun says. “This must be a shock. You should take your time now.”

Bambam nods. “Did someone go with Kook?”

“Yeah, Jimin is with him.” At least Younghyun can provide a bit of comfort in that regard. Jungkook isn’t alone. He is being cared for and supported.

“Okay…” Bambam still looks lost. And worried. Younghyun probably can’t even begin to imagine what he must feel like right now.

“Do you want us to come to the hospital with you?” Yubin offers. Her talent to stay calm in the most difficult situations has always fascinated Younghyun. Though right now, he’s grateful above everything else.

“I don’t think I can wait there. I’d go crazy.” Bambam leans back in his chair. He seems to get lost in his thoughts as soon as he stops talking.

“Maybe you can call Jimin and ask him to keep you updated?” Jisu’s voice sounds a little weird; her tone isn’t usually this tense. When Younghyun looks over at her, he can’t help but notice how irritated she seems. He really should have paid better attention to her instead of only focusing on Bambam. After all she’s still new to this and hearing about someone being injured must be a shock. It’s one thing to know their job is dangerous, but the reality of it usually doesn’t hit for newbies until something like this happens.

“That’s a great idea, Jisu.” Younghyun’s words make her smile a little, but it’s obvious the situation has taken a toll on her. It would probably be best to talk to her in private later on and make sure she’s doing fine.

Bambam nods absentmindedly before turning towards Mark. “It’s been way too long since we went out for a drink.” Definitely not the best way to handle this. But Bambam is an adult and at least he isn’t drinking alone.

“Sounds great, we can call Yugyeom and the others too if you want.”

“Yeah.” Bambam gives him a weak smile before turning towards the rest of the group. “Thanks everyone.”

[-]

Felix is snuggled up in a blanket on the windowsill of the bay window in his room, eyes looking out into the garden without really seeing anything when a knock rips him out of his thoughts. “Come on in.”

It’s Minho – obviously. “We have to talk.” Fuck, something’s wrong. Having to talk is never a good thing. Felix throws another wistful gaze out of the window before turning his attention back to Minho and gesturing for him to come over. Part of him wishes he would have slipped out of the room before Minho closed the door behind himself. Whatever it’s about, Felix is really not keen on having this conversation if Minho uses that tone paired with the serious look on his face.

“So what’s up with that necklace?” Minho’s voice is stern, and his face has that cold, professional expression as he sits down on the windowsill too. Felix really should have left when he still had the chance. He remains quiet, just looks at the pendant resting on top of his shirt. "Why is it so important?” Minho continues. “You wear it all the time, even during training. I saw the chain peak out from underneath your collar. I’m guessing you wear it during our missions too?" Having the feeling that Minho already knows the answer, Felix quietly looks up at his brother. A single look at Minho confirms Felix’s fear. Sighing, Minho shakes his head. “I keep telling everyone to leave personal stuff at home during missions and you bring this necklace?”

“I have it under my clothes. And even if I lose it, it’s not like I can be identified through it. I didn’t buy it myself, Hyung. It’s fine.” Felix tries his best to sound convincing, but it sounds like a hollow explanation when their safety is at stake. Minho looks beyond annoyed, which is understandable. Wearing that necklace is stupid and Felix knows it, but Felix can’t help it.

“Then who?” Felix knows Minho isn’t going to be happy when he finds out. And he really doesn’t want to elaborate on the circumstances, but Minho will figure out who gave him the necklace anyways.

“Nine.”

Minho sighs as though he expected this but had hoped for a different answer. It was painfully obvious though. Afterall, who but Chris would give Felix a necklace? And whose gifts would Felix cling to like this? It’s not like Felix has a lot of close relationships outside of Stray Kids. "I know what you think," Felix mumbles. "And I know what you want to say, but I won't get rid of it and you can't make me."

"I wasn't going to make you get rid of it." Minho's voice is suddenly heavy with emotion and so gentle. It’s like all the annoyance melted away and left only the core of worry. Sadly, this keeps happening lately. Minho has so much else to do already, Felix hates that he’s another burden to him. "I'm just worried about you. Having a memory of Nine with you all the time, I just don’t think it will do you any good. If you... if you want me to watch over it for you, I will."

“No, I…” Felix only now realises he’s been fumbling with the pendant. “I want to keep it close to myself.” He almost adds ‘It’s comforting’ but stops himself. Even though Minho wouldn’t ask any further question, the meaning of this necklace is between him and Chris. "I’d like to be alone now." Felix is almost taken aback by how drained he sounds. He wishes he could convince himself it was just because of the mission.

Minho nods and gets up from his spot. “You know you can always come to me if you need anything, right?”

“Yeah.” Minho ruffles through Felix’s hair before he heads out. Felix takes a deep breath and turns towards the garden again. As much as he appreciates Minho’s worry, he definitely won’t leave the necklace at home during missions. It’s ridiculous, but Felix feels safe when he’s wearing the necklace. Almost like Chris has his back, just like in the good old times.

[-]

The wait is beyond agonising. Jimin swallows around the lump in his throat and rubs his hands over his tired face. He can’t help all the pictures flooding his mind. The blood, Jungkook practically hanging off of Bora, the way his face twisted in pain. This isn’t the first time Jimin has seen someone get injured and things can get far worse than being shot in the leg in their job. But this feels different. Jungkook is part of his unit. In a way, Jimin is responsible for him and the others. He should have watched over them more closely, told them to be careful even though Stray Kids usually aren’t present anymore when they arrive. Jimin is well aware of how ridiculous it is to think that way. Everyone in his unit knows what they have to do without instruction. And it’s definitely best for him to stay close to Wooyoung until he has a bit more experience. Still, Jimin cannot shake off the feeling of guilt lingering in his stomach.

Jimin takes a deep breath and tries to push all the negative thoughts aside. Jungkook is going to be fine. Everything is going to be alright. Jimin can’t let those negative thoughts get to him if he wants to keep going. And he needs to keep going. Unable to stay still any longer, Jimin gets up from his seat and starts walking through the hallway. He’s still in full amour, which he had totally forgotten about until now. Sighing, he takes off his helmet and gloves and runs his hand through his hair. Jimin feels sweaty and tired after the mission. Actually, disgusting and exhausted are probably the more accurate terms. A shower and some regular clothes would be great now, but he cannot leave. In a way, Jimin feels like he owes Jungkook to stay here and wait. Jungkook shouldn’t be alone when he wakes up and in case any of his family comes here, they shouldn’t be left alone chasing after a doctor to give them any sort of information on what happened.

It’s hard to tell how much time passes, but it feels like days to Jimin. He tries to chat with a few other people passing here and there but the conversations never last long. Sleeping isn’t an option either since he needs to be awake when there’s new information about Jungkook. So he waits. And waits. And waits… It takes ages, but eventually Jimin is approached by a nurse.

“Did you accompany Private Jeon Jungkook?”

Jimin scrambles to his feet immediately. He almost trips over himself in his hurry but fortunately manages to end up stable on his feet. “Yes. Is he okay? Can I see him?”

A light smile forms on the nurse’s face. Damn, Jimin really needs to get a grip. He and Jungkook are colleagues. Nothing more, nothing less. Jimin needs to behave accordingly.

“Everything went well,” she reassures Jimin. The tension that had been building up inside of Jimin until now slowly gives way to relief. “He’s currently in the recovery room and should be back in shape in a few weeks.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” Okay, screw getting a grip. Who cares what the nurse thinks as long as Jungkook is alright. “Can you inform me when he’s awake? I’m required to talk to him and find out how exactly he was injured.”

“Of course.”

Jimin thanks the nurse and sits down again as soon as she walks away to continue her shift. Exhaustion had been pulling at Jimin way more than he had realised. Now that he has more peace of mind, he really needs to watch out that it doesn’t lull him to sleep. He needs to at least see Jungkook before he can rest. If Jimin has made it until now, he can stay awake long enough to greet Jungkook after his operation. And ask for the details for the report of course.

“Hyung!” Wooyoung’s voice has never felt like such of a blessing before. Jimin waves tiredly as Wooyoung, Bora, and Hoseok come towards him and take up the seats next to his own. “How is Jungkook?”

“He’s alright. The operation was successful and according to the nurse I just talked to, Jungkook will have recovered in a couple of weeks.”

Jimin can clearly see the moment the realisation hits his unit, because it seems like a ton of weight was lifted off of each of them. The tension leaves their bodies and careful smiles take over their faces.

“Where is he?” Bora asks. “I need to have a serious word with him about the dangers of running off too far all by himself.” After the hell of a day they had, seeing his unit laugh again feels like heaven to Jimin.

“That will have to wait,” Jimin explains. “He’s still in the recovery room.”

“Guess it’s time to go home then.” Wooyoung looks disappointed. All of them are, Jimin knows that. Of course, they had been hoping to see Jungkook and talk to him after everything that’s happened. It’s one thing to know that he’s okay, but seeing it first hand would still feel better.

“You can go home. I’ll give Jungkook your regards,” Jimin offers.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to stay here and wait?” Gosh, Jimin sure wishes he could tell Hoseok that no, of course not, he’s going to be a reasonable person and visit Jungkook tomorrow. But Jimin is not planning on being reasonable with this. “It might take hours until Jungkook is in his room and even then, he’ll be sleeping.”

“Your point?”

“My point-” Hoseok sighs- “is that you need to go home, take a shower and sleep. You look like you went through a grinder.”

“You’re one to talk.” It’s true, all of them look exhausted after today. They always do after missions. Though unlike the countless other times they’ve joked around, Hoseok doesn’t seem to appreciate the joke. “Thank you very much. But I don’t want Jungkook to be alone when he wakes up.”

“If you want one of us can take over,” Bora suggests. Both Hoseok and Wooyoung nod in agreement. As much as Jimin appreciates their offer – and their worry about him – he doesn’t want any of them to take his spot. He’s the Lance Corporal of this unit. It’s his responsibility to watch after everyone and care for their wellbeing. At least that’s what Jimin tells himself, that it’s because of his job and not because of Jungkook in particular.

“That’s very nice of you guys but I can’t accept that. I want to be there for Jungkook.”

“Don’t tell me you feel guilty for what happened?” Sometimes it seems like Hoseok can read his damn mind. Logically speaking, it’s probably the five years of working together, but still.

Wooyoung’s eyes widen when Jimin doesn’t reply. “Jimin-ah, that’s ridiculous,” he joins in. “Jungkook knew what he was doing. It’s not your fault he was injured.”

“I know that, but it doesn’t change anything. No matter what you guys say, I won’t go home until I’ve talked to Jungkook. You’re free to join me if you want.”

Wooyoung wants to protest again but Bora stops him with a hand on his arm. Jimin is glad she realises that he can’t be talked out of staying here because it saves him a lot of talking. “Is there any other way we can help?”

“You can call Bambam. He and a few others called me to ask about Jungkook. I think they all went out together to distract themselves while waiting. Just tell Bambam that the operation went well and Jungkook will be fine, he’ll spread the news.”

“Roger that,” Bora sighs, getting up from her chair and starting to fish for her phone in her handbag while walking down the hallway.

“So dinner?” Jimin turns around to find Wooyoung looking at him. “I’m pretty sure they have a cafeteria or something like that here. I can check if they’re still open.”

The look in Wooyoung’s eyes already tells Jimin he won’t accept a no. He can’t even blame Wooyoung for that since he knows he’d do exactly the same if their positions were reversed.

“Yeah, dinner would be great.”

“On my way,” Wooyoung chimes. He immediately gets up and hurries away. Already halfway down the hallway, he turns around and continues to walk backwards. “And don’t even think of giving me money. It’s on me.”

Jimin laughs but gives Wooyoung a thumbs up nonetheless.

“So.” Hoseok slides over to the seat right next to Jimin. Something already tells Jimin he’s up to no good. “You’re staying here because you don’t want Kook to be alone when he wakes up?”

That tone. What’s up with Hoseok’s tone? He sounds so smug, like there’s some sort of secret involved. Fucking shit.

Jimin sighs. “How about you skip whatever detour you were going to take and just tell me what you’re trying to get at.”

“You like Jungkook.”

Hoseok sounds so convinced, Jimin can’t help but burst out laughing. “What?” How did Hoseok get to that conclusion? Are people not allowed to care for their colleagues anymore? Just because he tries to be there for Jungkook he’s bound to have romantic feelings for him?

“I’ve had my suspicions before,” Hoseok explains with a smile. “But today confirmed it.”

Jimin snorts and shakes his head. He needs to get Hoseok away from this theory somehow. “Because I don’t want him to be alone?”

“Because you’re dead set on staying right by his side and taking care of him. Come on, I’m not dumb.”

“Debatable.” Hoseok rolls his eyes, which makes Jimin grin. “But you’re wrong about this. Jungkook is my colleague and my friend. That’s it.”

Hoseok’s face turns into a playful scowl when he leans closer. “You sure?”

“Absolutely sure.” Despite Jimin’s words, Hoseok doesn’t seem to quite believe him. Though apparently, he realised that he’s not getting anywhere with this, so he switches to a different topic. Soon Bora returns from her phone call and tells them how relieved Bambam and the others were to hear that Jungkook is fine. A bit later Wooyoung returns with food for Jimin and drinks for all of them. With dinner and chattering and all, Jimin loses track of how long they sit together like that. When it eventually gets late, everyone tries to convince Jimin to leave with them. Jimin refuses once again and tries his best to ignore the smug look Hoseok gives him. Who cares what Hoseok thinks anyways? Jimin knows he isn’t staying here because he has a crush on Jungkook. He just wants to be there for a colleague and friend.

[-]

Felix leans against the window. His legs are folded against his chest and he's still staring at the pendant in his hands while tracing it with his fingers. He hasn’t taken the necklace off even once since he got it. Felix wore it during training, during missions, even in the shower. Back when Chris was still with them, whenever Felix would adjust the necklace or take off his shirt, revealing the necklace around his neck, Chris would always have the warmest of smiles on his face. There was always something so soft about the way Chris would wrap his arms around Felix’s waist, pull him closer and kiss him. The necklace has always been their thing, their promise.

"I have something for you." Chris whispered. Until now, Felix had been drawing little circles and curves on Chris’ warm skin with his index finger. Feeling curious, he lifted his head from Chris' chest to look at him.

"A kiss?"

“That too if you want, but it’s not what I meant. Wait and see.” God, Chris is so sweet to get him a present just like that. Felix could feel a smile tugging at the corners of his lips while Chris shifted closer towards his nightstand. Chris was smiling too when he opened the top drawer and took out a small, shallow box. It was dark blue with a golden string around it – the colours of Felix’s mask. That detail might have seemed small, but it felt so personal and considerate it filled Felix with warmth already. He sat up and straddled Chris’ lap before accepting the box. Chris brought his hand up to Felix’s thighs, tracing little patterns on his skin the way Felix had done with him before. Smiling, Felix pulled at the golden cord. More as teasing than actual hesitation, Felix allowed himself a moment of looking at Chris rather than taking off the lid. It was almost unreal how good Chris looked just leaning back against the headrest shirtless and with tousled silver coloured hair.

Chris smiled and scratched the side of his neck. “What?” It was cute how easily he got shy.

“Nothing,” Felix muttered. “Just appreciating how breath-taking my boyfriend is.”

“Ahh no.” Chris immediately covered his face with his hands, but it didn’t hide how red his ears got. No matter how many times it happened, Chris just couldn’t seem to get used to compliments, which was adorable. Felix loved complimenting his boyfriend and seeing the mixture of embarrassment and feeling loved and flattered. He carefully put the box aside and leaned closer.

“Don’t hide, please.” Chris peeked at him through his fingers. “You won’t be able to see my reaction if you keep covering your face.” That seemed to do the trick. After Chris put his hands aside again, Felix placed a kiss on Chris’ cheek, picked up the box again and finally removed the lid.

The first look inside the box made Felix’s heart skip a beat. On top of an elegant looking black padding lay a small golden pendant attached to a delicate golden chain. The pendant consisted of a thin ring with a star stretching over its middle. It was a compass. “Chris…” Felix looked at his boyfriend again, basked in the happy glow in Chris’ eyes. “Chris, it’s beautiful.”

With a bright smile on his face, Chris pushed himself up on his arms and came closer to Felix. “You like it?”

“Like it? I love it!” Felix slung his arms around Chris’ neck and kissed him over and over and over again. They almost tumbled over and fell back onto the bed; Chris just barely caught them before they could lose their balance. Their kisses slowly gave way to soft giggles. “Thank you so much…”

“Do you want me to help you put it on?” Chris’ voice was low and husky, the way it tended to get when they were making love. Judging by the little smirk on his plump lips, Chris knew exactly what he was doing to Felix by talking like that. It was rare for Chris to intentionally try to be sexy. Most of the time, it happened unintentionally and especially when they were training together. He would brush his hair back, groan while they were stretching or look at Felix with an intensity that knocked the breath out of Felix’s lungs and generally be the hottest person on earth without even trying.

“Yes please,” Felix confirmed with a smile. Chris picked up the necklace and leaned closer, which made Felix’s heart race. Yes, Chris definitely knew what kind of effect he had on Felix. There was no other explanation for this.

“Do you want to know why I picked a compass?” Chris murmured while closing the clasp and adjusting the necklace around Felix’s neck. His voice was like molten chocolate, his breath like a warm summer breeze as it fanned across Felix’s skin before Chris kissed Felix’s cheek.

“Why?” It was surprising Felix could even get out a straight word considering how lost he was gazing into Chris’ eyes. Everything about Chris was just so mesmerizing. Felix could never seem to get enough of him.

Chris took a deep breath and met Felix’s gaze. Somehow, Felix got the feeling that whatever Chris was about to say had been very well thought through. Just that idea made Felix’s heart beat even faster. "Because you’re the North Pole and I’m the needle.” Chris whispered. His voice was so filled with emotion Felix almost couldn’t bear it. “I'm always drawn to you. No matter how far apart we are, I will always find the way to you."

It felt like the world came to a stop. Rapid beating filled Felix’s ears as he opened his mouth but couldn’t find any words to say. He tried a few times but eventually resorted to throwing his arms around Chris’ neck and hugging him tightly. Chris held him close as though he was a precious treasure to be protected. It was fascinating how Chris always made Felix feel so warm and loved, like he was the centre of Chris’ world. Considering his earlier words, maybe Felix was.

Tears fill Felix’s eyes, just like back then. But now Chris isn’t there to card a hand through his hair and mutter “I love you.” into his ear. Felix’s arms are empty. His heart aches, but it’s not the lovely pain from back then. Gulping, Felix locks his hand around the pendant and closes his eyes. “I love you too,” Felix whispers into the silence of his room. “I love you so much.”

[changbeanie]

bloom.mp3 ↠ han jisung

◦ genre: college!au, soundcloud rapper!au, idiots to lovers!au, frat boy!au; fluff

◦ pairings: reader x jisung

◦ word count: 15.8k

◦ description: when linkin park enthusiast, soundcloud rapper j.one begins to write love songs, han jisung knows it’s over for him.

◦ warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol, suggestive remarks

◦ a/n: two months writing hiatus & I’m back with a (non-angst) han fic !!! enjoy this mess that has too many frat references, questionable drinking habits, and a whole lot of love for j.one :)

one.

Jisung knows that whenever Hyunjin asks to study in the library, they are doing anything but studying.

But if he’s paying that much to attend college, away from the comfort of his own home where he doesn’t have to do his own dishes and laundry, he might as well take advantage of the facilities that the university has to offer. Like that one saying: when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Except he actually hates lemonade, but he’d still drink it if that one sustainability org on campus gives them out for free in those reusable glass bottles with smiley lemon stickers on them.

It’s not the actual branding of the lemonade that appeals to him (though he does like yellow)—it’s the fact that it’s free.

Because that’s probably the hottest thing you could ever say to a college student.

“What’s the approximate headcount for the party at Woojin’s house next weekend? I need to tell Chan how many drinks to buy,” Hyunjin insists on the first floor of the library. See, if they really wanted to study, they’d be on the third floor and up, not the first floor on the orange seats in front of Sam’s Coffee. Jisung doesn’t feel bad at all for bothering Jeongin until he gets up aggressively to grab him an Americano. 

It’s not hazing, he swears.

“Um two hundred… if Woojin doesn’t invite alums,” Jisung tells him with a sigh, tossing his head back in exasperation. “I have a midterm right on Monday, so I’m trying not to die from a hangover on Saturday.”

“That’s what Sundays are for, you nerd,” his friend comments, adding the numbers 2-0-0 onto the spreadsheet with a fat question mark behind them. It’s not like Hyunjin has a midterm on Monday. He has no right to say anything… theater majors, ugh. The end of the year play is their final, and Jisung thinks it’s a godsend privilege.

“Are you done with classes today?” Felix asks as he finally peels his eyes away from his laptop. Jisung wonders how a computer science major like him can party and code at the same time, but then again, when he’s madly drunk, the only language he speaks is Python. Funny enough, girls dig that because they’re prospective people. They ignore the drunk boy in front of them right now and see a future coder working in Silicon Valley and making boatloads of cold, hard cash.

Jisung picks up his phone and checks the time. It’s 4:45 PM, so he still has a bit of time left. “Yeah, but I have a project with Y/N after she gets off work,” he says.

Hyunjin pulls away from the spreadsheet and tuts his head. He’s supposed to be reading five whole chapters of McChesney for his mandatory Literature 114 class (which is anything but lit) today, and he hasn’t even touched the tab. He hasn’t even started and he has the time to plan parties and stick his nose in Jisung’s business. “Why Thursday? What’s wrong with Friday? It’s not like you’re doing anything on Friday besides sleeping in your SpongeBob boxers all day?” he pries loudly, loud enough for Jeongin and several others in the coffee line to look over at Jisung with a “wtf” face.

“Can you say that any fucking louder?” Jisung accuses him, eyes wide. He thinks he’d rather study on the sixth floor at this rate. “And she said she doesn’t want to see my face on Fridays.”

“Wow, she has great taste,” Felix adds callously. “I don’t want to see your face on Fridays either, but sadly, I share a room with you.”

Jisung knew he should have moved in with Changbin after freshman year. “She has some internship on Friday, okay? And it’s not like either of us wants to read about infrastructures and communities of practice and legitimate peripheral participation over the weekend.” 

Woojin has said it before that he tends to ramble when he’s nervous. Now he’s starting to hear it.

“From one to ten, how whipped is he?” Hyunjin says, boredom lacing his brown eyes.

“Definitely over ten,” Felix supplies unhelpfully, glancing over at Hyunjin.

Jisung hates the look they give each other. It’s like an unsaid agreement for imminent chaos, which is ironic because he’s usually the chaotic one. But the two of them together? Invincible. Like Kirby and Meta Knight in Kirby: Super Star Ultra. It’s the same look they share when they mutually agreed that it was alright for Jisung to do a shotgun eight shots in only for him to wake up dreadfully around five in the morning and run straight to the sink. Same look they share when they thought it’d be a good idea to try the hottest chip in the world (they shared one chip like they share one brain cell) only to yank open the freezer and resort to chomping on ice cubes while splayed across the kitchen floor. Same look they share when Jisung’s miserable love life has become the pinnacle of their entertainment because Black Mirror doesn’t come out with a new season until, conveniently enough, finals season.

“I’m not whipped! I just want to work on some lyrics over the weekend because I got this new bootleg mixing software from Chan–”

“What’s that? Excuses?” Felix interrupts uselessly like the pest he is. “I know you’re better than this, J.ONE.”

“Maybe if you admit your feelings for Y/N, all your songs won’t be about existential crises and about how much you hate college and how cool your roommates are. Rebrand J.ONE, you know? You’ve been wanting to go into R&B rap, so this is your chance!” Hyunjin voices, and Jisung wonders how loudly does one person speak because his life is ruined once someone finds out that he’s J.ONE, the rising SoundCloud artist who is rumored to be attending school on this campus. Not that he’s insecure or anything, but he’d much rather be on the DL about it.

Jisung scoffs, gobsmacked. “Not once did I write a song about how cool my roommates are. Not once!”

“Then it’s time you fucking did, Han,” Felix laughs as he sips on his Monster Energy before going back to his coding duties. Gotta love college and responsibilities. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Jisung mumbles when Jeongin grudgingly hands him his iced Americano. “What took you so long?”

The younger boy feels the need to turn around and point a finger that the line wrapping all the way around the restrooms and into the computer lounge. “If you haven’t noticed, it’s 5 PM and people get out of classes right now and want to cry over how much they don’t understand the lectures, you genius,” Jeongin advises coldly, and he has every right to.

In the span of fifteen minutes, Jisung gets called a genius and a nerd, but he’s not sure if they’re compliments. In conclusion, he wishes he were studying. “Wait… what time is it?” he asks suddenly, eyes alarmed.

“Five?” Jeongin slips his dining card back into his wallet and thinks that if he wants the dollars to last all year, he needs to stop buying people coffee.

“Oh shit,” Jisung curses, scrambling to grab his backpack, “I’ll see you guys back at the apartment. Y/N’s gonna grill my ass so hard.” 

“Oh, so she’s into the Devil roleplay,” Felix chuckles creepily as his eyes fixate on the computer screen. 

Jisung takes out the useless paper straw and tosses it at his roommate in vain. Partially because Felix is such an ass and the Coding Club doesn’t really need a vice president who sleeps more than he attends meetings. And partially because paper straws suck and get soggy within the span of three sips.

Hyunjin cackles at Felix’s less than appropriate comment, but Jisung races towards the library’s entrance before he feels he need to bleach his ears with whatever Hyunjin is about to say next.

It doesn’t even apply to him, but this could totally count as hazing.

two:

“You’re late.”

“I got you coffee?” Jisung says, but it sounds more like a question. He watches your face morph into an even deeper frown. 

“Your cup’s half gone and all sweaty on the outside,” you deadpan, crossing your arms in front. “If you’re gonna lie about it, at least be a good liar. But yeah, give me the coffee.” You move your hands towards him in grabby motions.

Jisung does not regret forcing Jeongin to buy him coffee and hands you the rest of his Americano. “Was work busy or something?” he asks, pondering over your eagerness for caffeine. 

You take a sip of coffee and begin to walk towards the bus stop. “Nah, works been chill. I always do Park’s business outlines when no one’s looking, which is always. It’s just midterms season, and I feel like I’m sitting in a room… but the room is on fire and I’m tied to a chair. A real shame,” you say, tucking a hand into your pocket.

Autumn is really here. Only a few weeks ago, it was summer. Funny how fast time flies when you’re stuck in a loop of never-ending assignments and exams. At least it’s not stupid hot and you don’t have any fruit flies in your apartment anymore; guess there is a silver lining to everything.

“God, it’s awful. I have a party next Friday and our advertising midterm is on Monday,” Jisung groans, making sure to walk a little closer to you when a biker passes you by. 

“You mean your Alpha Kappa Delta Gamma Phi Nu Chi Omega frat party?”

Jisung laughs and nods. “Yeah, Y/N. Just name the entire Greek alphabet for me.”

You turn to him and make a face. “I never really understood the Greek life. I mean, the parties are fun and all that, but God… imagine the mess. College students are such pigs, did you know that? There was this one girl in my hall last year. She left a potato under the couch for who knows how long, and when the janitors finally cleaned it, it was all moldy and rotting and attracting maggots.”

“But we’re having it at Woojin’s house this year, so it won’t be as bad as the other frats on campus,” he feels the need to say. Like it actually makes a difference. “Hey, at least there aren’t maggots. What can be worse than having maggots in your living commons?”

“No maggots but sweaty bodies grinding against each other to bad EDM music? I rest my case.”

Jisung is caught off-guard. “You clearly haven’t been to an Alpha Kappa Delta Gamma Phi Chi Omega party,” he states. He knows for a fact that he would never allow any of his parties to play generic, crappy EDM music when he has CB97 working the DJ. 

“You’re one ‘Nu’ short but yeah. I don’t think I’ve been to your specific frat party. Do you know the frat Jaemin is in? Elipson Omega something… that one medical frat. It was fucking terrible! Someone barfed on my brand new sneakers!”

“That’s another reason to never trust doctors,” Jisung chuckles to himself, trying to imagine the appalled look on your face; it’s like you’re fuming but cute at the same time. “And to never wear new sneakers to anywhere with alcohol involved.”

“I’m over my partying days, Han. That dumb decision-making episode is over,” you comment dryly. You don’t remember the last time you had anything stronger than a beer.

Jisung opens his mouth to say something but is cut off when you do a full-body groan at the line forming in front of the bus stop. He sees the monstrosity for himself and immediately regrets being late. “Does everyone on campus just make an agreement to end class around five?”

“Yeah, assholes. Have your ID card out so we can just run inside when he parks.” That mentality doesn’t really work, you see, because everyone has their IDs out and is pushing towards all three of the doors. This reminds you of those middle-aged ladies during Black Friday… what horror.

Jisung sticks close behind you as everyone is pushing and tugging and trying to get onto the 325 that has just arrived. Another reason why college sucks: it’s off-campus housing, but it’s still in one cluster and has one bus (the 325) that takes you there. He notices the pins you have on your backpack; there’s a Pikachu one, a boba milk tea, some random soju ones, and then a Peppa the Pig. There’s not really an aesthetic to the pins that you collect, but they’re definitely a conversation starter. 

“I think we might have to take the next bus back to my apartment,” you sigh, seeing that the current bus is almost filled to its capacity with eager, hungry college students. Just like you. You haven’t eaten a proper meal since ten in the morning.

“Go. There’s still room,” Jisung urges, lightly pushing your backpack through the doors until you’re able to hop on before he steps up himself. He gives a not-very-apologetic look to the boy behind him as the doors begin to close. 

“I hate this,” you say, gripping the bar and turning around to face Jisung instead of a tall dude’s armpit. If you were his friend, he’s getting nothing but deodorant for Christmas.

Jisung holds his breath at how close your bodies are, your exhales tickling his chin and your body heat radiating off your thin windbreaker. It doesn’t help with the fact that his hand is basically on top of yours due to the lack of bar handle space when the bus is packed its extent. He prays that his hand doesn’t start to feel clammy. “Um, did you eat yet?” he asks to mask his nervousness.

“No, did you?” You meet eyes with Jisung, and he breaks it as the bus brakes roughly at the first stoplight. 

“No. Do you wanna order in?” Jisung’s heart dips, feels like it might actually beat out of his chest and scream.

“What, are you paying?” you say, grinning happily. “I mean, I am housing you.”

The only reason why he insisted to work on the project at your apartment was because he wasn’t ready for you to find out how much of a slob he was, how many dirty socks are in his hamper right now, and how much shit Seungmin gives him every day. “Okay, whatever. I want burritos though,” he negotiates. Usually, he’d go for Chinese, but Hyunjin orders that way too often when he’s rehearsing his stage directions. The chopsticks give it a flare, he claims.

“There’s this really good joint by my place. We’ll just get off a stop early then–” The bus jolts forward and you sort of fall onto Jisung; he staggers a little before regaining his balance. You apologize profusely to Jisung for almost causing a domino effect on the poor passengers behind him. You really do hate the bus system, this is where all your taxes go to.

Jisung stands quietly, watching how the shape of your eyes changes as embarrassment slowly creeps into your features, a rosy blush rising to your cheeks and spreading across your nose bridge. He shuffles closer to you and waits till your breaths are even again before he wonders what it feels like to wrap his arms around you.

three.

Mid-burrito bite, Jisung wants to cry when you say that your roommate’s hamster looks like him.

He can’t believe it… that rat. Sans tail, of course, but nonetheless a rat. He watches as you feed him kernels of corn from your salsa with a devilish smile on your face. The rat, whom you named Truffles because he’s black with a speck of white, stuffs its cheeks full and eagerly reaches for more.

“See! He just stuffs it and–look! So cute! So fucking cute! Fatass.” Then, you look over at him and point to his face. “You do the same too! Holy shit, I need to record this,” you laugh, salsa juice stained hands reaching for your phone.

“Mumpfff–stop it,” Jisung mumbles with his mouth full, swatting your phone away. He definitely does not need Felix screenshotting that and using it as blackmail. Swallowing the bite, he asks, “Isn’t your rat going to die from all that corn?”

“No? He’s only going to have a sugar rush and run on his wheel aggressively, but he won’t die. I could never let mini Han Jisung die. So cute,” you coo, trying the shove his sloppy hands away from your phone. “I won’t post it, I swear. I’ll just save it for fun.”

Jisung doesn’t know whether to be happy that you’re saving a video of him or offended at the fact you compared him to that spoiled rat. Really, Truffles is so goddamn spoiled because his cage has a balcony, a wheel, and a light like those sirens on police cars—your roommate really needs to find something else to spend her hard-earned money on. Either way, he lets you have it your way because he’s too hungry to argue with you.

“Your rat is greedy as hell.” Jisung moves his trash away from the rodent so he doesn’t begin to chew on the tin foil. If Truffles dies, Jisung knows for a fact that your roommate, Lisa, will place him on a chopping block.

“He’s not! He’s just stupid. Look, he even bit me thinking that my finger was an apple,” you mention the incident from a week ago. Your hand raises up to show him the scab on the tip of your index finger. “I think I got one whole tooth in there.”

Great. Jisung dislikes the rat even more now. He doesn’t know why you compare him with that animal; he would never bite you… at least not like that. 

You’re making some progress through your burrito bowl after Truffles gets escorted back to his cage. “I was thinking, for the project, we could either do something artsy like a video montage or a zine. That way we don’t have to pound out an entire essay and bore the old man to death,” you suggest.

“Yeah, I like the video idea more. We can even have some cool beats for the background when we voiceover.” Jisung pats his face with a napkin until he thinks most of the burrito residue is gone. “Let’s start soon. I’m probably not going to be alive next Saturday before the midterm.”

“So, the Alpha Kappa Delta Gamma Phi Nu Chi Omegas party hard. Is that why you wanted to do the project with me? You know I’ll send Truffles to bite your head off if you make me do all the work, right?” you threaten him playfully. You don’t see Jisung as a douche, but hey, it’s a dog-eat-dog (well, hamster-eat-hamster in this case) world when it comes to group projects.

“Y/N,” he holds his hands up as if you had him at gunpoint, “We’ve worked on projects before and not once have I flaked on you.” Hostility aside, how do you even remember the Greek alphabet in that specific order? It’s a terrible frat name.

You shrug, letting him off the hook and pulling out your laptop from its case. “Fine. But speaking of cool beats,” you quickly open your SoundCloud tab and click into a page, “do you know J.ONE?”

Jisung’s eyes nearly jump right out and roll onto the carpet when he hears his SoundCloud name come out of your mouth. His chest constricts and expands all the quickly like all the blood’s pumping towards it, makes him feel a little light-headed. “Um, I think so? Like that one song with a piano beat in the background and something about seeing,” he says hesitantly, feeling his throat bop.

“It’s called I See, you loser. His rap, you know, it’s so soft and nice to listen to. Sometimes, I listen to his lyrics at night, and wow, this person gets me so well. Like he’s actually with me and reminding me that I’m not the only one who goes through shit in life,” you beam, eyes bright. “He’s just so loud, so not afraid to face everything that’s out there.”

That’s not true. J.ONE is actually terrified of commitment and exploring love and snakes.

“Do you think he actually goes to our school like everyone says?” He manages to squeak out, eyes glued to your half-empty burrito bowl.

“Maybe? I wouldn’t be surprised though. We have so many music majors in our school.”

Jisung’s curiosity takes over. It’s not every day someone mentions J.ONE in front of him, other than his roommates and a few Alpha Kappa… whatever. “What if he’s someone you already know?” he asks. “What would you do if he were like, your friend or something?”

That thought has never once crossed your mind. There’s no way J.ONE is among your friend group… he seems way too cool, and not to mention, out of your league. You let out a large exhale, then quietly, “I don’t know? Date me.” 

Jisung almost gets whiplash from your unguarded response; truth be told, he almost considers it. The smile on his face? Otherworldly. The stars would be envious of him.

“Okay, enough of my fangirling. We need to start on this and finish before you’re batshit drunk next week,” you tell Jisung, rummaging through your backpack for the project guidelines. “It’s somewhere in here.”

Jisung feels like he has to forcibly remove his head from the clouds and focus. He can’t have you thinking that he’s just a frat kid with an airhead. “And I’ll look for some free beats we can use?”

“Cool,” you say with a smile.

Guess it’s time to test out that new software Chan installed for him.

four.

The next morning, Felix is the first one to say anything to Jisung. He swings his legs out of bed, showing off his fuzzy Hello Kitty pajama pants with a gnarly bedhead that can house a bird family, and squints tiredly at Jisung’s bright lamp. “Dude, you don’t have class on Fridays. Why the hell are you up at ten?” he asks hazily, voice extra deep and thick from sleep.

Jisung looks up from his laptop and turns around on his spinny chair. “I’m doing a project,” he tells his roommate.

Felix thinks his friend is on something. Maybe Adderall or five Monster drinks. He might have a crash later on. “But you never work on homework in the morning. You sleep like you’re dead. I thought you died last week until I heard you snore,” he asserts. “What exactly did you do last night?”

“Not me. Y/N! She knows about J.ONE!” Even Jisung can’t quite wrap his head around it. The fact that you actually listen to his music and like his music makes him feel like he can board a spaceship and travel the universe all in the span of his lifetime. Not that he would ever, but that’s just how absurd everything is to him.

“So she knows that you’re J.ONE?”

“No. But she likes J.ONE and his songs. She even asked me, well, J.ONE to date her,” Jisung chirps and does a few more spins on his chair. 

Felix thinks its way too early for this bullshit and feels nauseous at the sight of Jisung spinning like he’s a fucking merry-go-round. This is worst than Hyunjin’s cheesy old rom coms. “That still doesn’t explain to me why you’re doing homework,” he says nonchalantly. 

“Because,” Jisung pulls up the most recent track he’s been working on and shows his friend, “we’re doing a video edit for Kim’s advertising class, and I need to find background music. But why dig for cheap elevator music when I can just make my own.”

“So you’re not telling her that you’re J.ONE,” he deduces. Felix is thoroughly confused at this rate; he should start getting ready for his class at eleven.

“Maybe after I show her the beats and tell her that I made them, she’ll find out that I’m J.ONE. And if not, I guess I’ll just keep hinting and writing songs until she figures it out,” Jisung says with the passion of a dying actor on stage.

His roommate sort of regrets waking up. Maybe he should skip class entirely and crawl back into bed, then wake up a few hours later and convince himself that this is only just a nightmare. Chances are, Jisung will still be clicking his mouse on his desk. Ugh, Felix feels like he’s in that one horror movie where the protagonist wakes up to the same day over and over again. “Why not just tell her now?” Felix decides to ask one more time.

“No.” Jisung looks as if Felix had just offended him. Like he’s just insulted his fashion sense or something (which is great, by the way). “She already likes J.ONE because he’s that mysterious online persona who makes songs that are right up her alley. She doesn’t like Jisung yet. I want her to like me for me and not me for the alternative me. Do you get me?”

Yeah, no way. Felix is skipping class at this rate. Seungmin’s already showering in the other restroom, obviously getting ready for class, so he’ll just ask him for notes later on. He leans against his bed frame, stares wearily at his friend, and says, “What if she’s so caught up with the fact that J.ONE is attending school with us and falling in love with him instead of noticing you?”

“I am J.ONE!” 

“You literally just said you didn’t want her falling for the alternative you!” Felix says in exasperation and falls back onto his Minecraft blankets.

Jisung’s not quite sure how that works either, but Felix is making him think too much at ten in the morning; he almost considers going back to bed. “Well, she already likes J.ONE. I just need her to see Jisung in a different light as well. I’m already halfway there, right?”

“Whatever floats your boat,” Felix says, pulling his blanket right over his head, texts Seungmin on his phone, and falls right back asleep.

Jisung runs a hand through his hair before his eyes focus back onto his laptop. There’s no way he’s telling you that he’s J.ONE, the SoundCloud rapper you’ve been obsessing over for the past several months. What if you like him just because he makes good music and not because he’s Han Jisung, the average college kid who likes to party, drink coffee, and spend time with you?

Then, Hyunjin stumbles into Jisung’s room with his stupid gray hoodie he wears every single damn day, the hood and drawstring dumbly taut against his head; it makes him look like a character from South Park. “Chan says he wants to DJ some of your songs at the party next Friday. Can you come up with a setlist for him? Throw some of SPEARB’s songs in there too. I need some hard rap at the party,” he asks, strolling in and collapsing on Jisung’s bed.

“Hyunjin… do you like J.ONE’s music?” Jisung asks, staring at his friend’s sullen figure. He’s probably regretting the instant ramen he downed last night, puffy face and all. Always so vain. “Do you think that he’s cool?”

“Okay, why are you speaking in third person?” Hyunjin peeks his head out from beneath his hoodie, looks like a groundhog of some sort.

Felix groans as if to say “not this shit again”—it turns out he’s not asleep after all. 

“Do you think that J.ONE is much cooler than Jisung?”

“You guys are literally the same person, but I guess having that anonymous online rapper thing is pretty hot. But J.ONE is slightly cooler than Jisung because at least he doesn’t talk as much online as he does in person,” Hyunjin divulges, and then, a knowing smile crosses his face. “You know, if J.ONE performs at the party, all the girls will come rushing in.”

Jisung scoffs a little too loudly at this. “No. I don’t want Y/N to find out yet. I want her to fall for Jisung and then find out about J.ONE, not the other way around. I don’t want her to confuse her feelings for liking me when really, she likes the alternative me,” he trails off, eyes staring at the carpet.

“Do you fucking hear him, Lix?” Hyunjin asks despite hearing exactly what Jisung is telling him. “Do you hear how insane he sounds right now?”

“Yeah,” Felix removes the blankets from over his head, “Unfortunately.”

“She’ll like you for you. She’s not the type of person to go after talent or fame, so I don’t know why you have such a long stick up your ass.”

Jisung frowns particularly at the way Hyunjin ends his statement, otherwise, it’s pretty solid advice. He’s already somewhat in your heart, so he just needs you to realize that he’s been J.ONE all along. The same guy writing lyrics in the dark bedroom of his shared apartment with a cup of instant coffee by his side. The same guy who always ends up coming late to class and you having to save a good seat for him away from the vents blasting hot air. The same guy who asks to be your project partner in every single comms class simply because he can’t stand the fact that Jaemin, from the other frat, has his radar on you.

Apparently, Jaemin is also a dancer on top of being a med student aiming for grad school. Kind of hot, if he’s being completely honest. But Han Jisung could care less—you’ve already expressed your liking towards J.ONE.

five.

When you wake up from your much-needed nap after your long, PowerPoint heavy internship meeting, you hear Lisa sighing as she opens her mail packages rather aggressively with her car keys.

“It’s nice to see you too?” you say groggily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “I see you did more shopping. So much for being hashtag broke.”

“It makes me feel better… remember that lady who rear-ended me on the freeway?” Lisa asks, momentarily pausing her package massacre.

“Yes?”

She groans into her pillow and smooths it out a millisecond later; you are a little concerned. “So I needed my bumper fixed, right? And my dad offers to take it back home to fix, which is great because everything costs less when you’re not near a fucking university. Another way the government leeches off college students, by the way. But what he didn’t tell me was… I’ll be left with my old car for at least a week. At least!” She complains like it’s the end of the world.

At least she has a car, unlike you. Not that you’d want to drive in this hellhole where everyone’s either constantly late, angry, or sleep-deprived. The intersections all scream “car accident” in capital letters. “What’s wrong with your old car?” you dare to ask.

“It’s a 1999 Honda Accord, Y/N. It’s, like, almost as old as me, bird shit green, and on top of that, the paint looks like it’s melting off like the Wicked Witch of the West!” Lisa says it like it's the most detrimental thing she’s ever encountered. Clearly, she hasn’t seen your grades.

“It can’t possibly be that bad.”

“Oh, it is! The piece of junk still uses cassettes! How often have you been in a car that still uses cassettes? And… and one time, I was driving to the market, and the hood starting smoking and emitting steam. I swore I was going to die,” she tells you, squinting as she leans in.

Your eyes widen significantly. “So how did you drive home then?”

“Slowly, with my emergency blinkers on, and God by my side. That’s how. You’ll see what a monstrosity this piece of junk is. The crappiest car in the whole parking structure. Woojin saw it when I drove his ass to school this morning and told me not to lock up my car because no one is going to want to steal from it. I’m so hurt!”

“Wow, you seriously downgraded from your Jeep Cherokee,” you chuckle, using a fat whale pillow to support your head. “It’s only seven days, Lisa.”

“I miss my sexy black Jeep. It’s such a mom car, but she’s spacious and cute. And the worst part is, we’ll have to go to Woojin’s stupid frat party looking like we’ve escaped a crime scene from the 1990s,” she adds and resumes to relieve her pent up anger on the poor packages.

Wait… we’ll? As in we will? Why is this plural? 

“What do you mean? I’m not going to the frat party with you. I have a midterm on Monday and a project to work on,” you say, trying to convince her otherwise. You’re definitely not the type to overdrink at parties… but you’re also not the type to under-drink as well. If you go, your project grade is hanging by a thread, you feel it.

Lisa rips open her package and unboxes the Versace perfume she swears by. Oh, her wallet is crying, you hear it. “You said you would go to a party with me! No backsies remember?” She reminds you about the other night where you drunkenly swore to attend a party with her, an empty bottle of Bacardi by your side.

“I was drunk the other night! You can’t take advantage of me like that! This just shows that I most definitely cannot get drunk again and bomb my midterm because of you and a stupid hangover.”

“That’s what Saturday is for, my dude. You can study and work with Han all day on Sunday if you want,” she smiles like a broken porcelain doll and wiggles her eyebrows, “I know you want to.” 

It’s terrifying, really.

“I do not want to,” you indicate with burning cheeks. “He’s going to be wasted, so I’ll be the bigger person and make sure we don’t fail the project or bomb the accumulated midterm.”

Lisa throws the abundance of bubble wrap at you; that’s not very sustainable of Sephora to use that much plastic. “You’re not letting me drive alone in that nasty old car. You’re coming with me, and that’s final.” She sees that you’re not 100% convinced yet and continues, “C’mon, Y/N! I know you’re going to have a great time there. Chan even told me he was going to mix a few of J.ONE’s songs during his set. You like him, right?”

“Sure. But that doesn’t change the fact that my midterm is on Monday–wait, I got a text from someone,” you interrupt yourself when your phone buzzes.

(2:15 PM)

han: check ur email, I sent u the beats for our project

han: tell me if you like them 

you: that was fast wow, okay I’ll listen in 5 mins

you: lisa is being annoying rn

han: and lisa said ur coming to the party :)

You look up from your phone and turn to glare at your roommate. “You did what? You told Jisung I was attending the party! Why?” you bark, throwing a pillow over your face.

“Because, you know…”

“No! I don’t know. That’s why I’m fucking asking you! Why did you tell Han Jisung I was going to his frat party?” you demand further. “Ugh, I don’t want to drink when he’s there.”

Lisa merely rolls her eyes. “Why not? He’s just Jisung. You’ve known him since freshman year of college, and name one time he has treated you badly. Tell me, and I will skin him alive,” she indicates, hands already reaching towards her car keys, the same ones she murdered the Sephora packaging with. You are very concerned.

“God, Lisa, it’s not that.” You pout with your nose scrunched up, not looking at Lisa, but she’s looking at you.

“Chill, Y/N, I know you like him. It’d be weird if I didn’t know considering we’ve been roommates for two years now,” she claims nonchalantly, calmly checking her nails to boost her ego even more. Like she’s the all-knowing god of young love and whatnot.

You want to facepalm at this rate. “If you know, then why are you making me go to this party? I’ll really do something stupid when I’m drunk! I might–I don’t know–kiss him or something!” It’s a real shame how red your cheeks are right now, almost matches the shade on Lisa’s firetruck nails.

“Wow, that’s pretty hot. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

A deranged voice escapes your throat, sounds like a cross between a dying horse and a choking lizard. “It’s not hot when I’m intoxicated and doing dumb shit that will gross Jisung out,” you say, shivering at the thought of drunk kissing your crush.

“Okay, but now you have to go. He’s expecting you to slow jam to one of J.ONE’s songs with him,” Lisa says, her head motioning you to the unanswered text on your phone. You’ve already seen it, and he’s seen that you’ve seen it; you can’t just not answer—though tempting.

Sighing, you text back:

(2:17 PM)

you: I’m so gonna regret this on saturday

han: if it makes u feel better, the project is half done

you: I hate u and lisa

han: no, you love me 

you: what abt lisa lmao

han: that’s not my problem

Lisa breaks into a fit of giggles as she slowly finishes up her vigorous unboxing. “If it’s any consolation, you’ll have a ride there,” she tells you, shit-eating grin radiant and dashing.

“How wonderful, Lisa. We can both look like dumbasses as we exit your beaten old carriage,” you snap back. You’re sure her car is uglier in the flesh.

“God, I know! Stop reminding me about that piece of shit. It even has a stick shift! A stick!”

“Well… I’m sure you have plenty of experience.”

Your roommate’s mouth drops open and shuts, obviously floored by your timely comeback. And it feels fucking great after she practically forced you to an Alpha Kappa Delta Gamma Phi Nu Chi Omega party during midterms week. 

That’s not really Jisung’s frat’s name, but close enough. They all sound the same anyway.

six.

Jisung is big confusion because your response to his beats was quite... subpar? 

Well, you responded with “omfg these are so cool !!! we can definitely use this as the BGM”. He thinks it’s nice and all, but where’s the big revelation? Where’s the “hey, this sounds so familiar”? Or the “um… are you sure you made these beats”? Either way, Jisung is sitting on his bed on a Tuesday evening and drowning his sorrows in Seungmin’s leftover kimchi stew and microwavable popcorn he found in the cupboards. Tastes stale. Just like his nonexistent love life.

“What are you watching?” Felix climbs onto his bed to look over at his laptop. Conveniently, the bowl of popcorn is right there, so he grabs a handful while he’s at it. “Dude, this needs butter,” he scowls at the staleness. Yeah, Jisung knows.

“Lucifer,” he says but his heart’s not in it. The demon sidekick chick is really hot, but he can’t even seem to focus on her when his mind is on you and J.ONE. He’s so jealous of that bastard. “Felix, is J.ONE really that different from Jisung?”

Felix takes a deep breath and looks at him like Jisung’s telling him about how the Earth is flat and not spherical. “Do you hear yourself right now? Of course she’s not going to find out about you being J.ONE from just one BGM track… and it’s not like you’re rapping or singing in it either. There are, like, thousands of music majors on campus. It’s not that surprising you know how to work mixes. I can even make beats if I wanted to,” he tells him. Felix wouldn’t though, he’s too busy sleeping and coding for this one dating app; he feels his hair turning white and not because he bleached it or anything. 

“What if she never finds out?”

“It’s not like she can date J.ONE without dating you. Why the fuck are you so pressed about this?”

Jisung shrugs, guess he’s just impatient, tired, and bored all at the same time. “So, I recorded a song today when you were washing your hair,” he begins, pausing the episode on Netflix, “and it’s not like anything I’ve written before.”

His roommate shoves his shoulder and smiles like Garfield when his owner buys him lasagna. “Aw, you finally confessed your love for your roommates–who are all eligible bachelors by the way. Make sure your fangirls know that. Use my number as the title too. I give you my permission and full consent,” Felix says pointedly. It’s not like girls don’t already throw themselves at him during parties.

“Tempting, but no,” Jisung dismisses curtly. “It’s… more sentimental? And it has more instrumentals too. Do you think Y/N will like it?”

“Gross. Did you deadass write a love song for her?”

Oh, so there goes his pride too. “I said it was sentimental, not a love song, you ass,” he defends weakly. Jisung’s strong face truly is terrible, needs some serious help.

“It’s literally titled ‘autumn nights'. Do you know how disgustingly sappy that is? Nighttime is for love, Han. It’s perfect for spending time with each other, having those deep talks about space, getting a little freaky underneath the sheets–” And Jisung thinks he’s heard enough from Felix today. “My point is, you’re so fucking whipped for her,” he finishes as he pops another kernel in his mouth.

“I did not ask for that lecture, Professor Love,” Jisung says, a little nervous to as why Felix would assume that it’s a love song. Okay, maybe it is a love song. Just a little… maybe half a love song. “I asked, do you think Y/N will like it? Because what if she doesn’t? Maybe I should drop a Kendrick style rap or something.”

Felix clicks his tongue; he thinks his roommate could use a chill pill… or maybe some really good tacos to calm his ass. With an extra spritz of lime and salsa on the side. He’s going to text Hyunjin to bring home tacos after practice. It’s totally for Jisung’s well being and not to satisfy his personal cravings. “Well, there’s only one way to find out. Ask her during the party,” he mentions casually, obviously sidetracked. He might get six tacos, all carne asada. 

“You’re literally no help.” Jisung sees Felix on Yelp as he searches up some taco stall near Hyunjin’s dance studio. “Wait, um, get me four adobada tacos with no onions. I’ll Venmo you later.”

See, proves Felix’s point. “I don’t even get paid for being your free therapist. It’s time you appreciate me and write a song about how much you love me.”

“No, that’s going to give Y/N the wrong idea,” Jisung says defensively. “I am not in love with you. I am in love with her–I mean–like. I just like her. Not you.” Okay, he hears the “whipped” part now. He sees Felix sigh and roll his eyes over the moon. Jisung’s so antsy for the party, especially since CB97 is including some of his tracks into the mix… definitely this new one for the slower segments.

In fact, he is stressed to the brink of wanting to spill the beans to you, but he knows he won’t. However, stress or no stress, he never turns down Taco Tuesday.

seven.

Lisa does not like to parallel park, so by the process of elimination, she makes you do it. Which is a terrible move because 1) you don’t know how to work a stick shift, 2) you simply hate knowing that her crusty car’s engine almost blew up once, 3) she’s standing on the sidewalk with her stiletto heels and making a scene by frantically waving her hands and screaming like a skimpy police officer (which definitely causes a scene), and 4) Woojin is standing there laughing too much for your liking in addition to making you and Ugly Car the highlight of his Instagram story. 

Great. Jisung is going to see how ridiculous you look.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Lisa says when you toss the keys in her direction, catching her Gudetama lanyard in midair. She doesn’t even bother locking the car because there’s nothing valuable in there; frankly, she’ll feel happier if someone actually ran away with the car. Removes the extra baggage from her shoulders.

“Oh, easy for you to say. You’re not the one trying to parallel park between a Bently and a fucking pick up truck,” you grumble as you make your way up the steps to Woojin’s house. And like every frat party ever, there are already people making out on the porch and a pledger standing by the doors to greet you. What amazing hospitality—you made sure to wear your old Vans today.

Jeongin wiggles his eyebrows at you as soon as you step foot on the porch. “Y/N, what a surprise. I didn’t expect you to be here,” he greets and looks over to Lisa, “Bambam’s by the DJ. He says you owe him ten bucks for gas money.” He says it like its some type of drug transaction—well, Bambam does dress like the Italian mafia.

“Ugh, I’ll be back,” Lisa groans and shoves her way through the crowd that is growing larger and hotter by the night. She leaves you with Jeongin by the doorway.

“So what, am I supposed to grab you a drink now?” you muse, chuckling at the freshman who is unable to get drunk and wasted because he’s too busy monitoring everyone else.

“No alcohol. But other than that, surprise me,” the younger boy tells you. 

So you’re on your way to the bar (kitchen island) and about to make Jeongin the best Shirley Temple he’s ever had in his life when a semi-drunk Hyunjin comes over, swings his arm around you, and shoves a blue party cup in your hand. “I can’t believe you rejected my offer to having you as tech crew. It would have been so much fun!” he exclaims, referring to the application you terminated because you had just got hired for your current receptionist job.

“I know! But your boss got back to me too late. I can’t just flake on my current job after two days of working, you feel me?” Slowly, you allow yourself to let loose and take a sip of whatever concoction he had in the cup. It’s not bad… tastes pretty light like a mix of soju and Yakult, maybe some Sprite as well. You don’t know how Hyunjin’s already this woozy. Lightweight.

“You could have spent more time with Jisung if you were in tech, Y/N,” he mumbles in your ear, chuckling like a complete fool. 

Your heart races against its cavity, feels like it’s about to crash and malfunction any second. There’s also this queasy feeling in your stomach, the same feeling you get when you’re about to YOLO a job interview with your mom’s blazer on. 

“You’re delusional, Hyunjin. Jisung’s not even supposed to be there. Sober up with some water,” you insist, shoving the drink back into his hand. Is your crush on Jisung really that fucking obvious? Hwang Hyunjin, out of all people, can tell. That’s a big problem because he’s known to be dense™.

“Woojin’s guest room is upstairs to your left, just letting you know. For science,” Hyunjin giggles to himself, and then flutters off somewhere to cling on another unfortunate guest. For science probably.

Well, that’s the last time you’re talking to Hyunjin about tech crew and anything science-related. Clearly, he needs to go back to middle school and relearn everything he’s slept through.

The Alpha Kappa Delta Gamma Phi Nu Chi Omega frat is significantly different from the other frat parties you’ve attended (sorry, Jaemin). Although challenged, Hyunjin is not bad at planning parties. There’s a rented club lighting set in the corner, the wires neatly zip-tied to prevent tripping, and stick-on lights along the edges of the ceiling, changing colors every thirty seconds or so. It seems to complement the music perfectly, and he didn’t even have to hire a DJ or equipment because CB97 (aka. Chan) is part of their brotherhood. Party snacks and sandwiches are lined along the kitchen counter and the island is strictly for beverages, which is smart because you don’t have to worry about someone barfing on your ham and cheese (or shoes). Although the typical college party behavior is still evident by the number of people shotgunning in the backyard, beer ponging upstairs, and grinding in the living room, it’s not suffocating (though it smells like weed) when your equally as dumb friends are surrounding you. 

It’s like you’ve all rebelled against midterms, even if it’s just for one night. Ignorance truly is bliss sometimes.

Though, Woojin needs to label his drinks because the majority of them are clear and sparkly, so you’re not quite sure as to which is Sprite and which is champagne. You don’t want to accidentally make Jeongin drunk and screw up his whole frat initiation process, nope. 

“Definitely not Sprite,” you suck your breath in, having inhaled a waft of vodka. And then you proceed to drink it because you learn to never turn down free alcohol. Especially not after you’ve already poured it into a cup. For the next few moments, you’re rummaging through the glass and plastic bottles, but in the dim lighting, they all look the same to you; your taste buds are getting clogged up from all the alcohol sniffing and tasting.

“Need some help?” Someone says to your right, and you recognize Jisung’s voice instantly, calm against the chaos (which is Seo Changbin shouting nonsense after doing a keg stand).

You hold up two visually ambiguous bottles. “Tell me, which one is Sprite and which one is not?” you ask, eyes meeting with his large brown ones. You think it’s just the lights and the fact that you’re slightly out of it, but his eyes look cosmic, glowing with flecks of silver and gold.

Jisung looks really good tonight, and this causes your chest to swell.

eight.

Jisung is aware that you’re mildly smashed because your cheeks are a shade pinker than normal, and you’re normally not this chirpy, the balls of your feet bouncing along with the music as you hold up a bottle of tequila and some type of syrup. Woojin’s kitchen is a little too overpopulated right now with everyone reaching for Cheez-It crackers to absorb all the booze in their systems so they can down more booze later on. It’s downright a maze of sloppy and rowdy drunks, but he thinks you’re stunning among the clutter of college kids.

“Um… neither,” he says, wondering how much you drank when you were so keen on No Parties During Midterms. “Why do you need Sprite?”

“I told Jeongin I’d make a Shirley Temple for him, but I can’t find the Sprite or the syrup. This is all your fault. You never let the kid have fun because he’s pledging. Stupid fraternity infrastructure,” you tell Jisung, who is currently trying to suppress his laughter.

“What? My fault? You act as if I invented the system,” he chuckles, “Wait, let me open a new can of Sprite from the fridge.” 

Jisung picks up a can from the fridge, opens it, and hands the beverage over to you, and when your hand brushes against his, he feels his heart jump a little. “What changed your mind? I thought you were over your partying days,” he asks. 

Also, Jisung thinks that you’re pouring too much grenadine syrup and too little Sprite into the cup, but whatever, he’s not the one drinking it.

“I was! Lisa’s just annoying, and you–you’re you. And her stupid car. I’m not sure I want her driving that alone at night. It could explode,” you babble mindlessly. Even then, you’re not drunk enough to confess your feelings for Jisung. “But I guess J.ONE makes up for it tonight.”

Jisung almost faints, right there, in the dim kitchen with beer stains on the tiled floors. “What?” he asks, feeling the breath knocked right out of his lungs.

“J.ONE. Chan is DJ-ing some of his songs tonight,” you chirp happily as you make your way over to Jeongin with the finished Shirley Temple in your hand. Jisung could only follow. “And Jisung! He dropped this new song, and it’s so thematic with the whole autumn vibes? Like the transition of summer to fall and fall to winter and the way he relates it to love. It’s the best, Han. You have to listen to it!”

Giddiness is an understatement for the way he feels right now. Under the kaleidoscope of lights, you’re too beautiful, and it overwhelms him with a bizarre sense of warmth similar to the effect he gets from having one too many shots of Minho’s weird cocktails. He stares at you a moment longer as you’re busying yourself by eagerly watching Jeongin until he downs the mocktail in one go.

By the look on Jeongin’s face, Jisung thinks he might crash from a sugar rush sooner or later. But hey, at least he isn’t drunk.

“Oh my god! This is J.ONE’s song,” you giggle as you hold your hands to your mouth. Sober you could never. “He sounds hot.”

Jisung laughs a little too loudly at that, but your buzzed self doesn’t seem to notice. “How do you know? You’ve never even seen his face. He could be some balding dude in his forties for all I know,” he says, letting you drag him across the foyer and into the living room where CB97 is currently playing one of his tracks. Your fingers are wrapped around his wrist, but all he wonders is how it would feel like if he intertwined them with his.

“No, he’s not! He said he was a college kid when he replied to one of his comments. That’s how the whole rumor started… because what if he does attend our university,” you gasp silently, “What if he’s in my class? What if… he’s closeby and partying among us?”

Actually, J.ONE is a lot closer than you think. 

Like five inches apart close. Crowded in front of the DJ and his enormous speakers. In fact, Jisung is praying that you don’t look over at Chan because he’s currently giving Jisung that look. He should have hired a DJ with no affiliations to you or J.ONE because this is too risky for his heart to handle.

“So? Older people can attend college too. Stop discriminating against age… ageist,” Jisung dismisses as a smile sneakily spreads across his face.

“My God, he’s not some creepy old dude! What do you have against J.ONE?” you accuse with narrowed eyes. Then, Jisung catches you when you stagger forward a little as Lisa bumps into you purposely, a suspicious party cup in her hand.

Jisung feels a little envious at how comfortably Lisa wraps her arm around your waist and how you naturally lean your head on hers. “I call this,” she holds the drink above her head like its a damn trophy, “the Mona Lisa.”

“Which entails?” You bend over and chuckle a little, nearly falling over if it weren’t for Jisung’s hand steadying your shoulder.

“That both of you are still not drunk enough and need to try my new concoction. And I assure you that it’s better than whatever the hell Minho makes.” Lisa hands Jisung the cup and pats his shoulder before skipping back to the bar, probably to make another Mona Lisa for her other unfortunate buddies. She really is trying to get everyone wasted tonight.

Jisung sees you biting your bottom lip in confusion and decides that, fuck, he’s not drunk enough for this—maybe getting wasted was a good idea after all.

Therefore, like the dumb college student he is (because college is the only acceptable time to make dumb choices, and if not, did you really go to college?), he downs the entire deathly concoction in hopes of washing his thoughts about kissing you away. Liquor is expensive, and he’s not the type of person to let it go to waste, or so he tells himself until he decides to regurgitate it all up around five in the morning. Jisung shivers at the flashbacks to freshman year. 

Seconds later, regret hits him like a truck as he winces at the burn in his throat; he sees you staring at him with gaping eyes.

“Wow. Didn’t even bother to share the Mona Lisa with me,” you giggle as you lean your forehead on his sternum. Your head feels heavy and wobbly.

J.ONE’s voice is blaring through the stereo as Jisung’s head begins to spin a little more than before; the Mona Lisa… don’t underestimate it. “You’ve had enough drinks, Y/N,” he tells you, and isn’t at all surprised that you’re kind of a lightweight; you would have definitely collapsed after Lisa’s cocktail. “Um, do you want to go somewhere that’s less noisy?”

You pull back and huff loudly with half-lidded eyes, not wanting to leave when J.ONE’s rap is currently playing. “Wait, after this song,” you smile sleepily, and Jisung’s a little startled at how close you are before he realizes that both his hands are still on your shoulders. He watches as you lean into him, your arms coming around to hug his waist.

His latest track is playing. The party slows down, and everyone’s just drowning in soft music. Thoughts empty.

“I take it as you’re enjoying the party?” 

The corners of Jisung’s mouth twitch when you nod a little too quickly, your hair tickling the bottom of his chin. Your close your eyes, hands tighten around the sides of his hoodie, and he practically loses it when you turn molten, caving into his embrace. 

“You Alpha Beta Kappa Chi Omegas sure know how to throw a party,” you mumble quietly, melting closer to Jisung.

That’s how he knows that you’re completely gone.

nine.

When you wake up to your roommate’s rat nibbling on your fingers and running marathons across your chest, you feel like you’re trapped in a nightmare. And it doesn’t help with the fact that your brain is dehydrated and fuzzy.

“Lisa, get Truffles off my chest before I make a coin pouch out of his fur,” you whine and turn to your side. The rodent slides off and scurries away to its owner sitting on the corner of your bed.

“He’s just getting his morning exercise. Don’t be so mean.” Lisa picks up the devil rodent and looks lovingly into its beady eyes. “I’m sorry Y/N is such a grumpy butt today. She’s just a mess after what happened last night,” she expresses, and you immediately spring up. 

Bad idea. Your head is pulsing now; you read an article that if you sit up too quickly after sleeping, you could die. You don’t want to die, at least not yet.

Like the good roommate she is, Lisa hands you a glass of water and an aspirin tablet. “So, I’m guessing you don’t remember what happened last night,” she says, lips in a firm line. “Ugh, the Mona Lisa clearly wasn’t strong enough to make Han batshit drunk. Might need to ask Minho for some of his deadly recipes.”

You nearly spit out your pill. “You tried to make Han Jisung sleep with me? What kind of friend are you?” you glower. Even the rodent is thoroughly terrified at the sound of your raspy morning voice because it’s literally a CTRL C of the Scared Hamster meme.

“What the fuck? Not sleep with you–I was watching you guys the entire night, and if he tried something on you, rest assured, he’d be crying for his mom right now,” Lisa says to reassure you of her “good” intentions. “But who knew frat boys were so fucking good at drinking! My Mona Lisa didn’t even put a dent on him!”

It’s Saturday morning, way too early for this revelation. “If you’re not trying to make him sleep with me, then what the hell are you trying to do?” you elect to ask, very unimpressed.

“Confess his love for you, duh.” Lisa sounds so confident you almost believe her words. “My pride is so hurt because, one, how can you think so lowly of me? I’m your roommate, okay? I would never do that to you. And two, either Han is really good at drinking, which is a complete turn on… for you, or my drink mixing skills just suck,” she pouts sadly.

You want to kick her and her rat’s ass off your bed. “He doesn’t have any love for me! We’re friends, Lisa!”

“Considering what happened last night… yeah. Friends. Totally.” You can smell the sarcasm dripping off her words, but what exactly happened last night? You blame Jeongin indirectly. It’s his fault for making you feel bad and then making him a Shirley Temple only for you to test alcohol and then get drunk off of your stupidity. Yeah, Jeongin’s fault.

“Tell me what happened last night,” you demand. You don’t remember anything past ten o’clock, and that’s a problem because frat parties last until seven in the morning when everyone does their only little Walk of Shame. Either you’ve already done your Walk of Shame well before seven or someone brought you back home last night. You’re hoping for the latter.

Lisa picks up her hamster and strokes its back with her index finger, slow and slyly, like the evil witch in Barbie’s Rapunzel with her weasel—except Truffles is much, much dumber. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she responds with a wiggle of her dark eyebrows.

“Yes. Yes, I would. That’s why I’m asking,” you deadpan.

“You’re a sleepy drunk, did you know that?” She says with a grimace, “Normally, we’d drink in the apartment, and you’d pass out on my bed, or your bed, or the couch… and if worst comes to worst, the mat in front of the toilet. But at parties, you don’t have that luxury. So you just knock out on the closest thing next to you.”

You don’t have a good feeling about this. Reluctantly, you ask, “Which is?”

“Han Jisung.”

“Oh my fucking god.” Your voice is caught in your throat, strained. “I really did that?”

Lisa mouths a quick “duh” before she takes you on a trip down memory lane. “So, he had to carry you to my car because you insisted on walking and almost tripped over the gate. Then, I drove us back, and we had to carry you up all three floors because the elevator’s been broken for at least a week now.” She sees you opening your mouth to protest and shushes you, continues, “We’re inside, and Jisung’s trying to make you drink water for the current hangover you have now. But you’re also really stubborn when you’re drunk so you spill water all over his pants, and Seungmin nearly died of laughter when he picked him up. I offered him your Totoro onesie.”

Now you want to die.

“That’s it. I don’t think I can ever face him again. This is over.” You’re embarrassed and beyond apologetic to Jisung for being one of those inconvenient drunks who everyone despises. You bury your face in your hands and sigh in agony.

“Jisung still has your Totoro onesie though,” she comments uselessly. 

“He can keep it,” you tell her immediately. “I don’t want it back as a reminder of the most tragic night of my life. I spilled water on him. Because I was dumb and drunk and lonely!” The number of first world problems in that last declaration—you sound pathetic.

Lisa rolls her eyes because you’re being overly dramatic (like her @ Ugly Car). “On the bright side, you didn’t kiss him. But I’m pretty sure he knows that you like him… pretty sure.”

“Why? What did I say?”

“Said something about when you listen to J.ONE’s songs, you think of him or see him… I don’t know. Some drunk bullshit like that.”

You pause. “And what did he say?”

She shrugs, “He seemed fine with it. I mean, that is kind of like your version of a confession. If you’re comparing a love song to him, then it just shows that you really like him.”

“He’s in a frat, Lisa. I wonder how many girls have said that to him.” You are startled at how sad your voice sounds. The hangover hits hard. “I guess I’d rather stay his friend than to receive a rejection on the basis of my horrible behavior last night,” you add.

“Oh, I’m sure many girls have confessed their love to him,” Lisa starts, taking her hamster and stuffing it inside a clear ball. She places the rodent on the floor and lets it roam freely. “But how many has he taken care of all night? And escorted her home despite his apartment being on the other side of campus? Practically did the Walk of Shame when he called his roommate to pick him up past midnight? In her fucking Totoro onesie?”

There’s a long moment of silence as if outside, omnipotent being has picked up a TV remote and pressed pause on his DVD player. You imagine a bullet stopping midair between a detective and a criminal. A spilled glass of wine seconds from hitting a crisp white blouse. Rain, moments before kissing the asphalt.

Then, Lisa’s hand is warm on your shoulder, and the world spins again. When she speaks, you inhale deeply at how serious she’s being. Breaths faltering.

“If I’m not mistaken, I think he really likes you too.”

ten.

Jisung barges into Carpe Diem Tattoo Parlor with no intentions of getting a tattoo because his mom would disown him—if it were legal. But that’s not even the point. 

The point is: he needs to see Minho, and like the good best friend Jisung is, he always shows up unannounced. 

“Hi, I need your help,” he announces as soon as he steps foot into the parlor, a waft of lavender soap hitting his nostrils. He plants both hands on the front desk, urgently, grasping Minho’s attention. Boy, does he feel unwelcome.

“I’m an apprentice, Jisung. Do you know what happens when apprentices slack off on their job?” Minho coldly looks up from his phone. Like always, he’s not having it. “They are unpaid and fired.”

Jisung reaches into his pocket and pulls out several bills. Certainly, this would make it up to him; he’s all about that cash money. “Here, you’re paid now,” he says proudly, flaunting his wrinkled dollar bills that have probably been through three washes.

“Do I look like a fucking stripper to you?” Minho rolls his eyes and glares at the dollar bills and a single gum wrapper on the counter. “Keep your change. What do you want? You’re lucky I have no customers right now.”

“So the party last night? Lisa and I took Y/N home because she was completely out of it, and on the way back, Lisa’s driving and we’re in the backseat of her old ass car. And Y/N sort of mumbles and tells me that when she listens to J.ONE’s songs, she thinks of me and wishes she could understand and validate those feelings that his songs radiate. You know, through me,” he blurts rapidly before he learns to breathe. “What does this fucking mean, bro?”

Minho is technically not allowed to drink on the job, but he really wants to. There’s a beer in the fridge for nervous clients, but he’d totally gulp that shit. “It means that you’re wasting my time. So please, go confess your love to Y/N before she changes her mind and starts having good taste,” he deadpans.

Jisung leans across the table and puffs his cheeks in frustration. He sees his reflection in the mirror and decides that he kind of does resemble Lisa’s pet rodent. Not that he would ever admit to it in front of your face. “What should I do? Is she confusing J. ONE for me or me for J.ONE?” he asks. “I hate how my life is so complicated.

His best friend looks like he’s about to rethink being his Best Man. Imagine the wedding… so stressful. Jisung would probably spend an entire week deciding on the wedding cake flavors alone, and that should be the least of his worries. “Shut the fuck up about the whole J.ONE thing. You’re too far caught up on that because I don’t think she knows or cares that you’re J.ONE. Have you ever considered that she might just like you because you’re you?” Apparently, Minho gives really good advice when he’s fed up with Jisung’s nonsense; that’s why they match so well. “Which is surprising because you’re… ugh,” he continues, making a disgusted face at him.

“I don’t know. Han Jisung is just any frat boy to her,” Jisung voices sadly, fingers picking at the edge of the counter. “J.ONE’s like that cool kid with no premises for judgment. No titles. Just music.”

“Wow, you’re making that conclusion on what basis? Just because you’re in a frat makes you a douche? Sure, in high school movies fraternities are frowned upon because all we do is party, drink, and get laid. But that’s not how reality works. Woojin is studying law, Chan is interning at a music production company, and Changbin will be studying abroad in Italy over summer. We all have aspirations, bro, can’t just be tied down to the bubble of a stereotypical frat boy that society sets for us. Can’t just let that undermine the values we have.”

Jisung smiles. No wonder Minho is his best friend. 

“Your music speaks loud to Y/N, and if she’s able to correlate Han Jisung to J.ONE’s songs, it shows that you’re equally as cool as that SoundCloud rapper,” he finishes, shrugs like its no big deal. Jisung wants him to write it down and keep it until the toast segment of his future wedding.

He thinks his mind is clearer now. “You’re right. I need to stop separating J.ONE and Jisung. Because we’re the same fucking person,” Jisung says as he takes a shallow breath, “I think I’m finally ready to tell her.”

“That you’re the SoundCloud rapper?”

“No. That I like her,” he answers, slowly. “I’ll tell her I’m J.ONE in a different way.”

Minho’s face looks so acrimonious right now that Jisung wants to snap a picture of it and make it a meme in the Alpha Kappa group chat. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to tell her when you’re about to get laid. That’s not the way to do it.”

“What? No!” Jisung shakes his head and wonders what goes on in his best friend’s brain. “I’ll tell her–wait, you know what? I need to go back and work on something. I’ll see you later, okay? Don’t miss me too much.”

“I’ll try not to,” Minho says soullessly, finding sudden interest in the calming French music that is playing in the shop. He doesn’t even speak French.

On Jisung’s way out, he receives a text from you:

(3:56 PM)

you: hey, can we meet tomorrow?

han: sure, where?

you: behind the dining hall where the stupid stone sculptures and pond are

han: how specific

(3:57 PM)

you: I just need to tell you something

He stares dumbly at his phone outside the tattoo parlor (Minho’s is probably SnapChatting his streaks from the inside and captioning it “fucking loser” because he has nothing better to do anyway) and ponders on what to reply next. He could totally say something cheeky like “I’m all ears and all yours”. 

But in the end, Jisung leaves it at that and walks down the sidewalk with a lingering smile.

eleven.

“Did you know we opened a new bar on campus? Like after finals you can drink beer. Only if you want to, of course. Not me though. I’m underage. But it’s so ideal for you old grad students who do nothing but TA and stress over your theses. So, how’s your day been?”

“Yeah… how nervous are you right now?” Woojin asks, wondering why he even agreed to walk Jisung to the campus dining hall. It’s not like he even had a choice because he was conveniently on campus—he’s always on campus nowadays. His students only go to his office hours for one of three reasons: assignments, midterms, and finals. Woojin doesn’t even have time to fuck around and play his guitar anymore.

Jisung takes a deep breath and holds a hand to his chest. Truth be told, he sort of wants to call it off and postpone it to another day, but he’s not an asshole who would raincheck the girl he likes. No, not if she’s waiting for him on the other side of the dining hall. By the trees with leaves rusted in shades of yellow, orange, and red. By the shallow pond with an artificial Stonehenge planted in the center, constructed purely for aesthetics in favor of Chancellor Kim. It’s one of those odd campus architectures (like, why). Jisung thinks it’s weird, but it’s a great trademark, perfect for marketing and slapping on stickers and hoodies for those broke kids at orientation. 

“Not at all. What’s up?” he answers hurriedly.

“Y/N isn’t going to bite your head off. I don’t know why you’re so jumpy,” Woojin says when he walks into the dining hall. Soy sauce chicken is on the menu today, and he’s here to have a good time, not babysit Han Jisung when he’s freaking out more than usual. “Okay, this is me. Go out back and get your girl.”

“Hey buddy, let’s have lunch first,” he tells the older boy, hand reaching for his sleeve, but Woojin frowns.

He looks at Jisung disapprovingly. “Are you really going to keep Y/N waiting out there? For all I know, that Jaemin kid can swing by and ask her to grab a coffee or–”

They say college changes people, and Jisung doesn’t even think twice before he says, “Bye, Woojin. Enjoy your lunch before kids come to pester you.” He gives him one of those bro pats and saunters straight towards the back entrance, determined to get to you before Na Jaemin does. Like he said, that dude has his radar on you.

Woojin smiles triumphantly. It’s that one saying: kill two birds with one stone; he can enjoy lunch and sneak pictures of Han Jisung’s first confession and send it to the group chat. It shouldn’t be too hard, since Chancellor Kim is all about aesthetic and encompasses the dining hall with plexiglass windows. He’s ready for a good meal and free entertainment.

On the steps, Jisung sees you standing in front of Pond ft. Stonehenge™ and decides that the outlandish place looks especially beautiful today. Like the aesthetics have gone through the Gates of Heaven, went through a rite of divinity, and came back for him to admire. 

Celestial. 

Jisung walks past classmates sharing sandwiches on the grass, couples studying on picnic blankets, and a few people napping on the hammocks by the pond. Between the golden branches, he sees your anxious figure, all shifting stances and constant phone-checking, and feels a little bad for making you wait that long. With his hands stuffed into the pockets of his windbreaker (which does little in preventing the chills from coursing through his body), he takes tentative steps toward you.

Thankfully, you seem to be hyper-aware of your surroundings and turn around before Jisung begins to stress over what to say. “Hey, you came,” you mention, flaring radiance. He thinks that if the sun decided to explode today, you’d still outshine it.

“Yeah, of course,” he begins, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Do you feel better today? You know, the hangover and all.”

A light blush coats your cheeks; Jisung thinks you look lovely. “I’m so freaking sorry for spilling water on you and relying on you like one of those annoying drunks,” you wince at your own actions, “I really am, Jisung. Lisa told me everything, and I feel like shit for dragging you down with me like that. You should have just left me there. That way one of us can have a good time.”

“You didn’t have a good time at the party?” Jisung is perplexed as he tries to coax a response from your flustered self.

“No! I didn’t mean it like that! I had a great time–just not after, because hangover–fucked me up. What I meant was… you could have had a better time if you weren’t stuck with clean-up duty,” you say, raising a finger above your head to point sheepishly at yourself.

“Pft, that was nothing. You weren’t a burden or anything,” he starts off, “Plus, I’m glad you had a better time at one of our parties than at one of Jaemin’s. Never liked that kid anyway.”

You laugh a little at that. “He’s the same age as you, Han. And of course I had a better time at your party. All of you really made me feel welcome, best frat on campus. And you even spent the entire night with me! Bet you got sick of me fangirling over J.ONE, huh.”

“I still think he’s some balding guy in his forties, but whatever, makes dope music I guess.” 

You look down with an unreadable expression, and Jisung watches as your fingers begin to scratch at the white polish that is already beginning to chip off your thumb. You inhale deeply, hold it, then exhale through your nose. Around the two of you, everything is silent and still. Leaves him anticipating what other symphonies are going to spill from your lips.

“Um, so I called you here to apologize to you… and to thank you. But also, do you remember what I told you in the car when I was drunk?” You stare at him with wide eyes, quietly searching his gaze.

“Well, do you remember?” Jisung exhales through his lips; he makes sure to be careful with his words because the well-being of his heart is at risk. Like he’s on a tightrope, one wrong move and he comes plummeting down.

“Yeah.” You nod slowly before telling him, “Lisa gave me a rather vivid, detailed reenactment. I’m sort of traumatized, actually.”

Jisung’s gaze skims over your features in silent contemplation. “Traumatized,” he breathes, tasting the bitterness in the word that escapes his mouth.

You purse your lips and continue. “I just wish those words didn’t have to come out of me while I was drunk,” you admit, blushing furiously at the confession. If Jisung were still on the tightrope, he might just sprint across if he weren’t afraid of heights. “But because I was drunk, I was disoriented enough to say the first thing that was on my mind. No emotional filter whatsoever. And surprise, it’s not J.ONE.”

Not exactly, but he knows what you mean.

Jisung chuckles to ease the tension, as if to distract himself from the hammering of his heart against his ribcage, the nervousness brewing in the pit of his stomach. “I was scared for a second. Thought you were going to take back everything you said because, you know, nothing should be taken seriously when you’re drunk… but I’m glad you didn’t,” he says. Jisung starts bouncing on the balls of his feet because he feels like there’s a blowtorch blowing at his face. This feels like high school promposal all over again, but he might even ditch his prom date for you—don’t tell her.

You smile at him, gently, like the ripples in the pond when autumn leaves land on its surface. “So, you remember?” you ask, biting your bottom lip nervously.

“Vividly. Not as vivid as Lisa though. The Mona Lisa still hits hard,” Jisung says, the curve of his lips soft.

There’s a sprinkle of pink on your cheeks, crossing your nose bridge and scattering across your features like stardust. “I like you, Jisung,” you say slowly, “I don’t know what it is, but I trust you not to take my heart and crush it.”

Jisung’s body shivers, and his hand reaches across space for yours; when they meet, his fingers instinctively thread themselves through yours. He’s been wanting to do that since day one.

“I like–wait!” His eyes round alarmingly. “I need to do something first! Okay, just go home and wait until… um five? And then check your phone!”

“Wait, why?” you ask, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“Trust me, Y/N. You trust me, right?” His hand is still holding tightly onto yours, reassuring you nonverbally.

“Yeah, but you can’t just–”

Jisung doesn’t blame you for wanting answers (you’re also cute when you’re confused), but regardless, you will have to wait until 5 PM. “Trust me, please. Just check your phone at five, and I promise you that you won’t regret it.”

When you hesitantly give him the nod of approval, Jisung’s eyes become soft crescents. Wordlessly, he gives your hand a final reassuring squeeze before turns to runs towards the 325 bus stop. His mind races a mile a minute.

twelve.

4:45 PM and you’re dangling upside down on your bed.

Waiting is extremely excruciating when 1) you’re in the doctor’s office and about to shit yourself because you haven’t been a healthy queen, 2) you’re about to take a final that will literally make or break you, and 3) your crush doesn’t give you a proper answer and runs off during the middle of your genuine confession. 

So yes, you have every right stress over this.

On the bright side, Lisa’s abstract tapestry looks much better upside down than it does right-side-up—you don’t know what Minho was thinking when he got that for her birthday. Then again, no one really knows what goes on inside his mind. Genius.

You hear Lisa open the door followed by a hushed yelp when she sees you. “Fucking hell. I thought you died, and I walked into one of those satanic ritual crime scenes or something,” she says before dumping her belongings on her bed. “What happened to you?”

“I confessed to him,” you say, words echoing through your skull. You’re starting to feel lightheaded from being upside down for so long.

“That’s great!” Lisa takes off her Airpods and belly flops onto her bed. “Why are you still here and not hanging out with him?”

“Because he technically didn’t say it back and told me to wait until 5 PM… which is 11 minutes from now.” You sit up a little too quickly to check your phone, and the blood rushing away from your brain causes a peculiar numbing sensation. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Lisa chuckles into her pillows, turns her head, and mumbles, “You know Jisung. He’s always fucking weird like that. I wouldn’t be worried if I were you. He’s so loopy in love with you that it makes me want to barf up breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

You cross your arms. “You don’t even have three meals a day,” you feel the need to point out, “And he is not ‘loopy in love’ with me! Whatever the fuck that means.”

“It means, Y/N, that you shouldn’t even be worried right now because I know he’s not going to disappoint you. Jisung cares about you too much to hurt you,” Lisa tells you like the good friend she is, disregarding the fact that she totally spiked your crush’s drink. “Plus, if he ever did, he knows his head is on the chopping block.” 

It’s true. Jisung knows better than to mess with Lisa’s roommate.

“You can’t threaten him into liking me,” you scold her justifiably. 

“Trust me. He’s doing it all himself.” She rolls onto her backside and stares up at the ceiling. “Once it hits 5 PM, you’ll have your answer. Then, you’re gonna know what ‘loopy in love’ actually feels like.”

You let out a breathless laugh, doubts on the tip of your tongue. “Or he’s spending time writing a rejection letter because he’s terrible at confrontation like the epitome of a Virgo he is. Like ‘Dear Y/N, we are sorry to inform you that you have been rejected from the life of Han Jisung’. So tragic,” you mope with a frown.

“Bitch, what is he? Harvard?” Lisa must find you ridiculous at this rate. 

“No, but it must hurt just as much if you got rejected from Harvard.”

“Not really. Because if you don’t apply, you won’t get rejected,” Lisa simpers playfully at her own misery, using an index finger to mimic a teardrop rolling down her cheek. “My point is, you’re overthinking it because Jisung would probably name a star after you if he saved up enough cash to buy one.”

“There are stars that are not massive enough to explode beautifully like supernovas. Instead, these stars take their last breath by disintegrating into embers that scatter throughout the cosmos, leaving traces behind for eons,” you say, “I’d name that star after him.”

It’s not some surprising revelation that you’re sort of in love with Jisung. The feeling’s always been there, floating noiselessly in the expanse of your heart, until it decides to bloom and intertwine with the blood vessels, burst through the septum, and spreads through the arteries. And slowly, every inch of your being is consumed by this blossom that is heart-shaped for Han Jisung. Therefore, it’s a no brainer that, if you ever purchased a star, you’d name it after him. Because he is the stardust that spans over the entirety of your universe.

“Okay, you space nerd,” Lisa dismisses with a slightly grossed out face. 

“I’m not sappy, it’s just that–”

5 PM and you’re rudely interrupted by an obnoxious buzz of your phone. In the midst of random Twitter notifications, direct messages, and Postmates promo codes, you see “New track from J.ONE” from “5 seconds ago · SoundCloud” titled “i like u 2”. 

With shaking hands, you jam your earphones into the phone port and untangle them before pressing on the notification carefully, your eyes staring daggers at your mobile. It starts playing, and you watch as the sound waves begin to fluctuate against the track’s background, which happens to be an oddly familiar picture of what looks like the sunset taken from the rooftop of your apartment. Violets against the burning sky.

For the first time, the intro starts with J.ONE’s speaking voice instead of an instrumental solo, and you gasp; you know that voice by heart. Slowly, the first verse bleeds in with the beginning chords of the song. Then, he’s singing through the pre-chorus, chorus, bridge, and by the time he finishes spilling his heart out, you feel dizzy. Like you’ve been running on pages of a book. Pages and pages. All dedicated to you as if you’re the only person that exists in this solitary world.

The connection is mind-blowingly stellar. 

How can two stars, made of burning, not feel each other’s warmth despite being so close to one another? Or maybe, actually, they’ve been the same star all along, and your mind's just too cloudy to see it.

When you fully register the lyrics, you realize that maybe, deep down, you’ve always known. From the way he writes, the passion he ignites, the emotions he encapsulates, J.ONE has always been Jisung. It’s always been him from the start—you just never had the courage to admit to it. Even before you started listening to J.ONE, it’s been him because J.ONE was only a fabrication, an outlet for him to tell you everything and anything he wanted to say. It enables him to share his music with you, because it’s all about you, down to the very last note. 

“What are you smiling about?” Your roommate smirks, finding a sudden disinterest in her miseries and a sudden interest in you.

“I need to go find Jisung. Like now.” You practically leap out of bed, grabbing your phone and keys before sprinting into the foyer to slip on the first pair of accessible shoes you could find. You’re about to leave the apartment, but when you swing the door wide open, there’s Jisung standing there in all his SoundCloud rapper glory. You almost jump to the ceiling when you see him.

“Dude, why didn’t you tell me this entire time? You had me sitting there wondering what the fuck is going on and didn’t even give me a proper response earlier, and now you tell me that you’ve been J.ONE all along? Like the J.ONE. The dude I’ve been fawning over since the day I downloaded SoundCloud and discovered him on Chan’s feed, and then I fell in love with his words, his voice, and now, him! Then, suddenly, he became all too familiar and reminded me of you. It made me feel like I was going crazy because how can J.ONE be you?” You exclaim, words beginning to mesh together with how much you’re mumbling, with how shocked you are with the whole revelation.

Jisung gives you a few seconds to catch your breath before he chuckles softly. “How can you just ‘dude’ me and say you love me in the same statement?” he asks.

“I just can,” you say, “Why didn’t you tell me? You really left me thinking that J.ONE was some balding dude in his forties… you sounded so confident when you said that, and I almost believed you.”

“Maybe because I thought you would have fallen for J.ONE instead of Jisung. He’s cooler, you know,” he mumbles sheepishly, hands picking the lining of his pockets.

“You cannot be more stupid, Jisung.” You laugh a little before telling him, “I fell for Jisung before J.ONE even started producing music. Before J.ONE even existed. That’s how cool you are.”

At your words, Jisung wordlessly inches forward to close the breath of space between you two, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. His lips brush against yours and an inferno ignites, sending you into a state of delirium, floating softly in his nebula. And then, Jisung moves closer and you allow him to deepen the kiss, hands fisted in the front of his shirt, sighs spilling from your lips as he swallows every hitch of your breath. Jisung kisses you like he’s been through the depths of the universe and back, and you kiss him like he’s the last thing you’ll ever see.

Jisung’s about to trail soft kisses along your jaw when you break away and cut him off.

“Wait, why do you have a Victoria’s Secret bag with you?”

Jisung looks at you with his big doe eyes before he finally realizes what he’s been holding onto this entire time. “Oh, this! It’s Changbin’s.” He sees your bewildered expression and feels the need to clarify. “No. I meant it’s Changbin’s sister’s, but he brought new mics over to my room and used the bag to put them in,” he tells you frantically, mildly embarrassed.

“Why are you giving me a Victoria’s Secret bag then?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

“It’s not–I only have this bag!” Giving up, Jisung pulls your out your Totoro onesie. “I needed to return this. Gives me an excuse to see you.” 

You push him away playfully, rolling your eyes at the forsaken state of your onesie. “You used hot water, didn’t you? That’s why it’s all shriveled up and shrunken.”

“I didn’t know you were supposed to wash specific things with specific temperatures? I had good intentions! Ugh, I’ll buy you a new one when I get paid.”

“Buy Y/N what when you get paid?” Lisa questions loudly, casually strolling into the living room. Her expression does a 360 turn when he sees Jisung holding a hot pink Victoria’s Secret bag. “Um, you know what? I think Truffles need some new toys to play with… I’m gonna be at the pet store. For an hour.”

“Lisa, it’s not what you think–” you start before Lisa cuts you off abruptly.

“An hour,” she whispers seductively in your ear before pushing Jisung aside and sprinting towards the elevator (conveniently fixed); you feel actual shivers go down your spine.

When Lisa’s nowhere to be seen, you turn to glare at Jisung. “This is all your fault,” you say to him.

“My fault? You’re the one who decided to make Jeongin a Shirley Temple. You’re the one who soberly decided to test alcohol. You’re the one who rejected water, spilled the entirety of it on my pants, and wondered why you have a hangover the next morning.”

“Okay? So what do you want me to do? Make it up to you?”

The glint in his eye is dangerous. “I mean… we do have an hour,” he quirks his brow and smirks, stepping into your apartment and closing the door behind him. Devilish smile.

“We do have an hour,” you nod in agreement, ignoring the sparkle in his eye. “We can use it to study for the midterm.”

“Okay, study for the midterm.”

6:15 PM and your roommate comes home to see you and Jisung sprawled messily across the carpet, laptop cracked open with one of J.ONE’s to-be-released tracks displayed on Reaper, sharing a slumber together with earbuds dangling in between. Jisung rests his head on his arm and drapes the other over your waist, hand dangling against the small of your back. Your nose is pressed against the exposed skin at the base of his neck, lightly breathing in the scent of him, your folded arms brushing against the fabric of his hoodie.

You never wanted to study anyway.

note:

hello :D I apologize for any mistakes b/c I only proofread this monster once & I hope you guys liked it despite having to wait n months for a happy han fic !!! can you tell he’s my bias wrecker lmao; thank you so much for reading this & if you enjoyed it, please hit that like/reblog button (comment on wattpad) and scream to me about it ♡ see you in the next bin anniversary fic (bin again... I know)

[alecxaheart]

Wish I Were | Kim Seungmin Oneshot

✎ Genre : High School Student AU, Angst, Fluff

✎ Pairings : Kim Seungmin X Reader (?)

✎ Word Count : 1.1k words

✎ Synopsis : Winter has already passed, yet Seungmin is getting colder and colder as time flies by.

✎ Warnings : Explicit Language

✎. . . Another angsty oneshot but a song inspired one. It's been a while since I wrote a very short oneshot. Btw, the whole oneshot is in Seungmin's Point of View. Enjoy my loves, mwah. <3

Kim Seungmin.

Save the date, 3rd of December. Where in the middle of a snowfall, sunshine appeared out of the blue. The time I was saved from the inner demons haunting me, from the bothering cold of winter. The time I never thought would come to the point that I lost care for myself.

With a small yet simple gesture, I was saved. She came just in time and the best part of her rescue was probably her giving me her soft light-tinted blue sweater. " It looks better on you than it did on me, Seungminnie, " She giggled as we sat in front of her fireplace, my cup of coffee laid unfinished on the table. Her arms around my waist while I lay my head down on her shoulder. All the warmth I received on that day was completely comfortable. From the fireplace, the hot coffee she offered, her sweater and her care and love. I couldn't ask for more than that to feel enough.

With a small yet simple gesture, I couldn't help but fall.

Fall.. In Love?

Just another new start allotted for this school year happened on this very day. Months had already passed ever since me and Yuri met. Right now, it's just me and her having a wonderful conversation. Her beautiful smile appeared once in a while with a small chuckle as we continued to just pass some time before class started.

" No way, this happened when you hit the baseball with your bat? You're that strong? " Her eyes twinkled as I showed her the picture my friend, Bang Chan, posted on Instagram. I responded with a nod and a hum, smiling.

" It looks like teeth marks at first glance, " Both of us giggled in unison while I tucked my phone back in my pockets. " But hey, that's really an impressive strength. You'll be in my speed dial in case I want you to kick some asses for me. "

Then there was a short silent pause in the area as the main doors opened. I took a glance towards it to figure out what caused such distraction from multiple individuals. And I must say or rather I could tell it already, he's definitely gonna be the elephant in the room.

His face defines ethereal, perfectly sculpted by the Gods to the point that they placed a star beneath his eye. He was indeed shining, everyone blinded by his beauty.

What broke my heart was when I took a glance back at you, you were one of them. I saw your eyes sparkling, filled with adoration towards the newcomer. You couldn't look away, trapped into his spell as he walked towards us. He caught your attention and you couldn't help but fawn over him more. What a sight for sore eyes.

I slowly distanced myself away when he was now onto you, both of you sharing smiles brighter than the blue sky and exchanging a few words. You're too lost in his eyes to notice my presence vanishing from your area, too lost in love while I'm starting to lose love itself. You never looked at me the same way as you did to him.

With one last glance, I witnessed how you got him so mesmerized before I die.

Or Fall.. Apart?

Back in place, like it was the start of winter once again. The time I was emotionally and mentally going downhill. But the difference is that it's far from almost winter, the sun shines too bright these days and I hate it.

Messages

💟 : Hey, can't meet you up today

💟 : I promised Hyunjin I would go with him, sorry

It's okay. : KSM

Go and have fun with your man. :) : KSM

Read – 5:03PM

Closing the door, I leaned my head back on it before silently letting my body fall onto the ground with the phone in hand, the picture of the two of us showing in the lock screen. I knew that behind me, behind this door stood Hyunjin and you having the greatest time of your lives. Exchanging words, smiles, and laughter with one another.

The scene I saw a few moments ago played. I walked into the rooftop, supposedly to be looking for you – which I did but never thought of it to be something like this. I watched you two there standing before the golden sun setting in the horizon then he held your hand. You, too, gave one of your sweaters to him. Putting his arms around your shoulder afterwards when you two took a seat on the ground, your head resting on his chest as you both took in the scenery.

I wanted to hate him so much, for he took away my chances of even having the confidence to confront you and confess my feelings towards you, ruining all of my plans to have the greatest life I've ever had in my grasp. Although as much as I wanted to, I just couldn't bring myself to do so. Hyunjin-hyung never treated you or anyone else badly, being the angel that he is. He's also true to his feelings, I overheard it from a conversation he had with Minho that he likes you, the same way you like him. However, I did prefer him not existing at all – thinking that maybe it would go the way I wanted it to be if he was never there.

In the end, I'll only get colder and colder to the point that my heart will freeze, slowly distancing myself away from you. While you're looking beyond exquisite than ever with a smile brighter than the sun, twinkling stars adorning your eyes and the pinkness of your cheeks – all of it was because of Hwang Hyunjin. Just for the sake of your eternal happiness, I have to disenthrall you.

Laying down alone on the bed, in the middle of my gloomy bedroom, drowning in my own pool of thoughts. Wearing the light-tinted blue sweater to feel the warmth back in the 3rd of December that I always loved, but I knew it would never be the same as before. Today, she wouldn't be able to save me. This would've been the aftermath back then.

Eyes red plus the visible dark bags underneath it came all from excessive crying and insomnia. Body tired like hell. Lost my appetite. Pale skin and dry lips. Too many emotions mixed up in my heavy chest. My mind screaming and yelling in agony yet none of it was heard since I lost my own voice as well. All in all, I feel like shit.

Beside me laid my journal, the messed up pages filled with black ink shown. The words " Wish I Were Hyunjin " were mindlessly written on the pages, repeatedly scattered.

Why would you ever kiss me?

I'm not even half as pretty

You gave him your sweater

It's just polyester

But you like him better

Wish I were...

Breaking the silence, a knock on the wooden door was heard out of the blue.

End.

[daydreamingfics]

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 889

You sighed, amazed at the view before you. The city seemingly welcoming you in a warm embrace, as the world suddenly felt so vast and free. As the sun began to set, lights started to flicker on one by one all around you. The glittering trail like stars dropping to the earth as their glow illuminated your path. Buildings of various shapes, sizes, and heights collided in a mixture of silhouettes along the darkening sky. Vehicles and people all rushing along tangled lines of streets, creating a magnificent chaotic mess. Seoul indeed was a boisterous and bustling city, one that you now found yourself right in the heart of.

The trek to South Korea’s capital had been exhausting, but finally, you were here. You couldn’t wait to jump in and fully immerse yourself in all that Seoul had to offer, but first, you had to find somewhere to eat. Upon landing, you went straight to the hotel to settle in, wanting to have a few moments to collect yourself before exploring. In your haste, you had neglected to pick-up a single ‘Welcome to Seoul’ pamphlet from the hotel lobby. An oversight that was now biting you in the rear as you were completely and utterly lost. 

With minimal Korean language under your belt, your first attempt at getting directions didn’t go as planned. After finally mustering the courage to approach someone, you opened your mouth to speak, and subsequently, your brain went blank. Completely embarrassed, you found yourself muttering a feeble ‘Sorry’ as you scurried away from the confused local. That’s how you found yourself relying on old faithful Google Maps. With your head on a swivel trying to both take in the sights and follow the directions, it wasn’t long before you collided with someone. The collision caused you to lose your balance, but before you hit the concrete, a pair of arms wrapped around your middle, keeping you upright. 

First, the brain fart, now this? Really Korea, that’s how we’re going to play? You thought to yourself as the owner of the arms that were still wrapped around you began speaking. 

“I wasn’t watching where I was going, my bad. Are you okay?” the stranger let out. You could feel the blush creeping towards your cheeks as you took in the man before you. He seemed to be around your age, and his English was really good, you noted. His arms that had broken your fall were still locked around your frame, and the close proximity combined with his good looks was taking your breath away. The boy cleared his throat after a few seconds had passed, and you still hadn’t responded. 

“Uh, no, it’s my fault. I was trying to follow directions with this app because I’m lost, and yeah,” you muttered in response. Once again, your brain was unable to form any coherent sentences, only this time, you were exponentially more embarrassed as you didn’t want the boy before you to think you were completely daft. Taking in your flustered disposition, the boy seemingly realized that he was still holding you. He unwound his arms from your middle and took a stride back, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Clearly, you weren’t the only one flustered from the brief physical contact. The thought causing the corners of your mouth to turn up as the boy began speaking once more.

“I’m Han, and I can help you... with directions... if you want.” the boy who you now knew as Han declared while flashing a gummy smile in your direction. 

“Nice to meet you, Han. I’m Y/N, and I really don’t want to be a bother. It was foolish to head out after only just landing a few hours ago. I’m normally a lot more prepared, but I’m going to blame this one on jet-lag.” you joked. The response earning an amused chuckle from the boy. His laugh causing your stomach to do somersaults. 

Were you really getting butterflies for a guy you didn’t even know? Yes, yes, you were. 

“Oh, I know all about jet-lag, believe me. I personally find the remedy to be good food and even better company. Lucky for you, I know the best Korean Barbeque spot around here. And, I’d like to think that I’m pretty great company too.” Han bantered, with his eyes fixed on you. 

Every bone in your body was screaming ‘stranger danger,’ and although you didn’t know the boy, you didn’t feel the least bit unsafe around him. Plus, you‘d be in a public place if anything went south. The truth was, in the brief moment that you two shared, he had captivated you, and you couldn’t wait to discover more about him. With all things considered, you nodded at the boy, which only caused his enchanting smile to broaden. Your smile mirroring his in mere seconds as he held out his arm for you to grab ahold of, using the busy streets as an excuse for the gesture. With your arm linked in Han’s, you listened intently as he began pointing out different landmarks and both popular tourist and local attractions as he guided you to the restaurant. You found yourself thanking the high heavens that your complete lack of directional skills had caused you to bump into Han.

Maybe getting lost wasn’t so bad after all. 

[leggomylino]

Braked, Trifled | Han Jisung

Genre: slice of life, college au

Pairing: Han Jisung x fem!reader

Word count: ~1.5k

A/n: Masterlist in bio~ | Based on true events ♫

- ♫ - ♫ - ♫ -

[12:11 오전]

The inertia that pushes your car forward makes your head spin. Like being on a roller coaster that stops all too quickly. 

“What was that?” Your friend asks, turning around. “Did you just hit the brakes hard?”

Your eyes travel up to peer through the rear view mirror. “No…” you speculate, watching as the shadow of a tall, 20-something year old boy steps out onto the curbside. Your vision narrows. “Some punk just hit me.”

It was just after midnight. Your friend Daewon’s birthday was today, and to surprise him you and your other friend Junyong made plans the previous afternoon to throw him an all-day surprise party, along with the rest of their rookie college music group, Noir. Your town’s local Dunkin’ Donuts was just a hop, skip, and a jump down the road from campus, and being a Tuesday night with a new semester just around the corner, you weren’t expecting anyone to be out, especially at this hour. Even so, there were plenty of better places to go for partying than...a local 24/7 donut shop.

Which is why you were baffled to find the rival enemy, Han Jisung of the infamous 3Racha and Co., quarreling before your newly-imprinted bumper.

"Han I told you for the last time that's the accelerator! Dang it, I should have listened to Chan and not let you drive—“

"How are we gonna tell this to Minho…it's his car..."

Han waves his hands peacefully before the crowd. “Okay, okay,” he states, looking back at the imprinted [car model]. “Everything’s fine, it was just accident so— sh*T WAIT I USED CHAN’S LICENSE!” He suddenly huffs, making an elaborate 180 in behavior to stamp his foot like an immature child. “You're the one that wanted donuts at 12 am!!!” He accuses, pointing to an orangish-blonde boy. Definitely a part of the squad, but not one of the 3Racha fiends. 

Freckles huffs back. “Well EXCUSE ME FOR WANTING TO CELEBRATE NATIONAL DONUT DAY!!!”

"THAT'S NOT EVEN A REAL THING!” The one from the passenger’s side erupts; another groupie. “BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP!!!"

“Aaaah,” Han groans, palm on his forehead. “Okay, Seungmin’s right, we need to calm down. Like I said, everything is fi—“

“It’s not fine,” you cut in, glaring. Han jumps, seeing as you appeared to be a ghost behind the glow of taillights. “I’m pulling up over there.”

You point a couple parking spaces to the left of the drive-thru, and he nods, swallowing. A nervous glint about him. Ignoring your late-night drinks and dozen Boston Cremes, you pull up to the designated area, sighing as your head hits the steering wheel. Junyong pats your shoulder solemnly. “It’s okay. We’ll get through this. It’s just a fender-bender, so you don’t have to tell the insurance company— I’m sure he’ll agree,” he added, nodding behind him. He turned his head to glare out the back window. “...But seriously, who hits a car in a drive-thru? You’re supposed to inch forward, not ZOOM like Speedy Gonzales...”

Wasn’t that the truth... Shrugging, you open the door, preparing to rendezvous with the enemy. In all truth, in all honesty, you were annoyed at the notion; but the fact that it was Han Jisung, well, that made you livid. 

He was, after all, the boy that had instigated war between the two groups; by stealing Seunghoon’s file, and writing his group’s name on it as the demo for their music final. He stole Noir’s song, and made it their own. And nobody stopped him.

“I’m so, so sorry…” he starts, walking up with your order. “Here’s your stuff…”

You take it from him stiffly, passing it to Junyong, who came running up beside you. Sensing the awkward tension, he dips back to the safety of the dented vehicle without a word, gulping his Matcha Latte down.

“Gimme your info,” you demand, wanting to keep this short. Han begins to sweat.

“Uuuh…” he nods, slowly, and juts a thumb over his right shoulder. “R-Right, lemme just—“

“Here,” one of his friend’s says, extending a piece of paper. He has brown hair and matching eyes, paired with a calm, logical aura. You’re pretty sure you heard Han call him Seungmin. “I wrote it all down for you. If it’s alright with you, we’d like to keep the insurance companies out of this situation, so...we’d be happy to pay for the damages out of pocket. We’re very sorry.”

“Hmph,” You scoff, snatching the paper. As genuine as he may seem, it’s probably a fake number, with a false address and a made-up company name. Some forged on-the-spot license numbers. You glout over the paper and nice handwriting.

“Something wrong? Did I forget anything?”

“Show me your license.”

Han flinches, Seungmin remaining very still. Their faces both harden into something frantic. “...Well...” Seungmin begins, “...about that…”

“You don’t have your license?” You frown. “You could be arrested for this, you know.”

Han chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Ha-ha, yeah, I-I know—“

“Then why were you driving without it?” Your arms cross. “You should always have it on you, always. It’s careless to leave it at home, or in another car, or somewhere else...what are you laughing about?!” You holler, whipping over your shoulder. 

Junyong covers his mouth, bowing his head so only his eyes peer over the hood. He takes an exaggeratedly loud sip of his Matcha Latte. “Nothing!” he shouts, “It’s just...” ...Sip. “...you kinda sound like his girlfriend or something, scolding him like that.”

“Huh?!”

“Oop!” He quickly ducks back into safety. You sigh, overly annoyed and done with it all.

...Zen, Y/n. Totally zen.

“...I’m...sorry,” you manage, biting the side of your tongue. Apologizing to the enemy should be treason! “This is just such a pain. But I understand it was an accident.” You look each of them in the eye. “Are you okay? No one was hurt, were they?”

Han opens his mouth to speak, but his buddy stops him, covering it in an odd fashion. “We’re fine,” he insists, smiling. “And, again, we’re so sorry about this.”

“...Right…” You rummage through the bag around your bodice, flipping out your mini planner and tearing off a page. “Here’s my information. You can call or text me about the damages tomorrow, er…” You smile, just a little. “Later this afternoon.”

“Yes!” Seungmin states, taking the paper and passing it to Han Jisung, Enemy No. 1. “We’ll definitely do that!”

You press your smile further, forcibly, politely. “Grea—”

Flash!

“OW!” 

From Han’s...if you’re recalling correctly, “Minho’s” car...you see Freckles squint, hands raised to block the flash bombs going off behind you like the paparazzi just showed. 

“WHO LEAVES THE FLASH ON?!?!” he cries, swatting at...the air. You spin around to scowl. 

“Junyong! What are you doing?!”

“Don’t worry, Y/n!” Junyong howls. “I got pics of everyone involved, and both license plates! They can’t run now!!!”

“......” Well, the Matcha Latte was certainly kicking in. You would have thrown a donut, had one been available to you. 

While being ushered off, Han continues to stare at the paper curiously. Then, as if struck by a realization of some sort, he looks up at you over his friend’s shoulder, smiling.

“I thought I recognized you! Y/n L/n, right?”

You blink, unenthused. “That’s what it says on the paper.”

Han just continues smiling. There’s some sort of sparkle in his eye that’s visible even in the blotched moonlight of storm season. It sends a shiver down your spine, even after you’ve closed and locked the car doors. “I’ll definitely call you!” He yells, waving. Like a couple of old friends reconnecting, excited to catch up over donuts and coffee.

But he was the enemy. Han Jisung had done something wrong, something cruel, something that had yet to be concluded that you weren’t sure you could ever forgive...so, then...

You start the car with a gentle whir of the engine, setting the gears into reverse. Hesitantly, you glance into the rearview mirror once more, watching him engage in harsh whispers and subtle push-and-shoves before getting in.

His face. His charisma. His profile...two months ago you’d sworn he was the enemy, yet...

...Why was it that you were just as excited?

- ♫ - ♫ - ♫ -

“Wasn’t that the girl that accused us of copyrighting her friend’s track? That was her, wasn’t it?” Felix asks. “...I hope she knows that was all just a misunderstanding…”

Climbing back into Minho’s stolen convertible, because Felix just had to have donuts for National Donut Day at 12 am, Seungmin heaves a sigh, running a sweating hand through his exhaust-riddled hair. Too close, honestly. The infamous Y/n, known for being the Campus Blizzard, could have had them fined, reported on campus, and Han behind bars. ...Yet for some reason, she didn’t.

...Must be in a good mood or something. A saving grace, if he did say so himself. “...Please tell me this was really an accident. You didn’t do this on purpose...right?”

The boy in the driver’s seat smiles...sheepishly. Pulling back up to the window to claim his goods, he places the tips of his ringed fingers together. Takes a breath.

“...If I say half yes and half no, will you be mad?”